


Nessian The Mating: Extended Re-Post

by Rhysand_vs_Rowan



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Nessian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-24 17:31:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12017646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhysand_vs_Rowan/pseuds/Rhysand_vs_Rowan
Summary: At long last, Cassian and Nesta's wedding day has arrived, along with most of Prythian.**This is a direct sequel to my fanfic "Alone in the Townhouse" and a massively expanded re-post of my fic "Nessian: The Mating" (Like, double the length).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As I put all my fics in the same 'verse, there are also references to my other stories. All you need to know is:
> 
> 1) Lucien and Elain accidentally mated in "Alone in the Garden"  
> 2) Tamlin revealed that he and Amarantha were incompatible mates in "What Rises from the Ashes"

**Part 1: The Wedding**

Every detail mattered, and yet nothing was important.

Nesta couldn’t seem to stop her heart from racing. Her skin felt too thin, she was too light, too breathless, too-

“Drink this.” Feyre held a cup to her lips and Nesta obediently gulped down the contents. The potion eased the throbbing in her head almost instantly.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You didn’t eat anything at breakfast. If you don’t have _something_ , you’ll faint.” Elain didn’t look up from her work as she traced over Nesta’s skin with blue-black paint. Feyre was the superior painter, she had finished her side in the time it took Elain to work her way down to an elbow.

“I’m not hungry.” Sitting in the enormous bridal tent, Nesta was far, _far_ too nervous to trust herself with a full stomach.

Feyre set the cup down on a table piled high with refreshments and food, “It’s not too late to-“

“I’m not calling it off!” Nesta snapped a bit harder than intended. She winced, “I’m sorry… I don’t want to call it off. _Please_ stop asking.” Over the last few week’s they’d discussed this again and again. “I told Cassian it was his decision. I know he’s excited, I won’t change my mind. _Especially_ not the morning-of and _especially_ not when we’re already here.”

Her little sister smiled and pulled a padded stool over so she could sit in front of her, “I was _going to say_ that it’s not too late to change your mind about seeing him before the ceremony. It might help your nerves.”

“Tell Rhys to tell Cassian… His hair had _better_ be clean and combed or I _will_ destroy him.”

Feyre took a moment to relay the message to Rhysand in the groom’s tent about twenty feet away. Twenty feet… Even with Rhys and Feyre shielding Cassian and Nesta from one another’s scent (as per their request), Nesta could _feel_ him. It was making her heart ache and her skin burn- being so close after so long apart.

“Cassian’s hair _is_ clean, and he says he misses you too.”

It was three weeks since Cassian left to inspect the Illyrian camps with Rhysand. Just over half a year after the war with Hybern and many were _still_ recovering from their losses. Females were being trained in earnest to bolster the ranks, some of the harder hit camps were joining together to form new clans, and territory lines were being re-drawn, not all of it peacefully. It was a tumultuous time, but Cassian and Rhysand’s tour did a great deal towards keeping the fighting between camps to a minimum.

Most days Feyre winnowed to Rhys’ side. She met every Camp Lord, resisted the urge to kill several, and gave the Illyrians their first real introduction to their new High Lady- the human-turned-fae who now spent most of her time with Illyrian wings. She was determined to earn the respect of her people, and Rhys made sure no Camp Lord dismissed her. Those who did faced _severe_ penalties.

Whenever Feyre _wasn’t_ in the field with Rhys, she was by Nesta’s side, lending a supporting shoulder for the female who was without her mate.

Even though it was by choice, Nesta grew increasingly testy with others as that distance between her and Cassian grew. Feyre was there to help act as a buffer and protect _them_ from _her_.

Among the humans, it was customary for a bride to enter her marriage bed with her virginity intact. Nesta did not regret for a single _moment_ that night only four months ago when she gave hers to Cassian. Still, the breach in protocol inspired her to propose a break in their lovemaking- if only to increase the excitement of their mating.

If she’d known how things would explode, she would have taken Cassian to bed every single night of those three weeks. Hell, they probably would have mated on their own long ago.

_Do this, go to the Illyrian camps without me, and the ceremony can be as grand as you want. Grander, even._

She knew Cassian would agree. She knew everything would spiral out of control… But Nesta also knew how much their mating ceremony meant to him, and what it represented.

Cassian was bastard-born, thrown away by his father and orphaned by the cruelty of his Camp Lord. His mother died bitter, weak, and alone with him too young to do anything more than pick fights and cause problems. He was nothing in the eyes of his people- less than nothing. Rhysand’s mother took pity on Cassian, yes, but his father had disregarded him as some pet who didn’t know his place.

Though the young Illyrians called him Lord of Bloodshed, though he was General of the Night Court armies, his rank above even those sniveling Camp Lords, Nesta knew he was still seen as a nobody by the older generation.

All because he was bastard-born. All because of something he had no control over.

His _mate_ , however, was the Cauldron-forged sister of their High Lord and Lady.

Nesta was Death itself. She was the female who’d leveled a forest and killed _hundreds_ in a single strike during the war with Hybern. Her power wasn’t given by the ancient gods of the Illyrians, it was _stolen_ from the very same Cauldron that birthed those gods. She was like Feyre, Amren, and even Elain- something _other_ , something _unnatural_ , something almost holy to the superstitious clans.

That she was Cassian’s mate was the bitter envy of all.

So Nesta offered to make a spectacle of their marriage, the union of Bloodshed and Death, just to rub those Illyrian’s arrogant faces in it. Just so they would have to stand there and watch that bastard-born upstart tied on a soul-deep level to one of the three most powerful females in Prythian.

The original wedding was to be attended by their loved ones- Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel, Mor, Amren, Elain, Lucien, Nuala, and Cerridwen. As per Nesta’s request, invitations also went out to the Camp Lord of every Illyrian tribe. That simple act turned it into an official ceremony.

And that is precisely where they lost control.

With the High Lord and Lady of Night wed and mated in secret, followed by Elain and Lucien’s accidental mating, Nesta’s mating to Cassian took on a special significance. Of the three Archeron sisters marked by destiny, only one was marrying properly. That meant that every last bit of festivity that should have been poured into Feyre and Rhys’ mating, or perhaps even Elain and Lucien’s, fell squarely on Nesta and Cassian.

Since the Illyrian Camp Lords were invited (commanded) to attend, it became a Court event. The Governors of Velaris- all of whom knew and loved Cassian- were welcome guests, and unfortunately that meant Kier and his wife had to come to represent the Court of Nightmares. Heavy threats had already been leveled on Kier by Rhysand- if he did something by word, deed, or facial expression to dampen Cassian and Nesta’s special day, he would _wish_ Rhys was merciful enough to kill him.

As per human custom, Nesta would have handmaidens who were to be escorted by an equal number of males chosen by Cassian. Elain would be with Lucien, Mor with Azriel, and Amren with Varian.

If the blame for their newly overcrowded ceremony could be placed on any _one_ individual (besides Nesta), it would be Varian.

Since the heir apparent of Summer would be surrounded by the leaders of the Night Court’s armies, the elite of his Court demanded he be guarded by a legion of their own men. Rhys knew that he would need Tarquin as a friend if he was truly to rip down social barriers for so-called Lesser Fae, so he invited the High Lord to attend as well. That _quadrupled_ the number of soldiers expected.

Mor invited Viviane to sit with her after the official ceremony was over, but not long after Viviane pledged her attendance, Kallias made her High Lady of Winter. He would not let his High Lady or mate enter the Night Court alone and _she_ was done being separated from her friends, so then _he_ was coming with the appropriate retinue of nearly two thousand soldiers.

Helion next sent word to Rhysand that he wished to attend “To mourn the loss of a fine male with all who loved him”, adding yet _another_ thousand soldiers.

With four High Lords in attendance (and two High Ladies), it was only polite to invite Thesan and his mate. Regrettably, Beron and Tamlin _also_ had to be included to avoid an inter-court slight while the human queens still posed a potential threat to Prythian.

No one thought they would all agree to attend.

Azriel’s spies reported that the Lady of Autumn accepted the invitation instantly, thanks to a letter sent with it from Lucien declaring his mating with Elain Archeron. Eris convinced his father that _he_ was the one who accepted the invitation- a way to protect his mother from the worst of Beron’s abuse- and so Autumn was suddenly sending a couple thousand soldiers too.

Thesan would not let _Beron_ of all males attend a party that he did not, so he accepted the invite shortly after.

With all other High Lords committed to the ceremony, Tamlin had no choice but to attend. He was trying to make amends for his past errors, he was _trying_ to be the High Lord that Spring deserved, the one he promised Feyre and Lucien he would become, but he was decidedly dreading walking onto a field filled with Illyrians. His role in the deaths of Rhysand’s mother and sister in _their_ borders was well known, and Illyrians were not said to be particularly forgiving. He was bringing _another_ two thousand soldiers.

Even Miryam and Drakon were invited, though they were uncomfortable leaving the Cauldron so soon after the war. They sent a delegation of fifty soldiers with their apologies, gifts, and an open invitation for Nesta and Cassian to visit whenever they wished. Nephelle and her mate would be standing with the High Lords during the ceremony in their leader’s places.

With _every_ High Lord and Lady, _plus_ their guards, the Court of Nightmares, and the Governors of Velaris all in attendance, the Illyrian Camp Lords made the decision to bring every last warrior in their camps. No one liked the idea of so many converging on the Night Court, and even those Lords who normally flaunted Rhysand’s authority were not foolish enough to allow ten thousand soldiers from _other Courts_ surround the High Lord and Lady of Night.

The ceremony was moved to an empty plane in the Illyrian Steppes to accommodate the sheer scale of the new guest list. A city of tents had been erected only a few days before the wedding, each centered around a hastily assembled array of bonfires, literal mountains of alcohol, various game and combat fields, and small popup marketplaces where each Court showcased their own unique goods.

Cassian arrived with the Illyrians three days before the wedding and oversaw the assembly of their own camp, decidedly less jovial than the others. He kept his warriors in check while Rhysand arranged competitions and games for the men after the official ceremony. Nesta’s arrival was delayed until that very morning, lest she completely lose control and dash into the Groom’s tent to mate with her love before the ceremony even began.

Not that anyone would have objected.

As the guest list exploded, Feyre repeatedly reminded both Nesta and Cassian that there was nothing wrong with eloping. Nesta wasn’t sure what bothered her sister more: all the people who would be watching as she as Rhys officiated the Illyrian ceremony, the stress of hosting so many soldiers, or the fact that Tamlin was bringing so many citizens of Spring- faeries who once served her with loyalty and adoration- each and every one of which she’d manipulated through equal portions truth and trickery.

Spring was probably just as safe for her as Night for Tamlin.

The Lord of Spring was making progress in rebuilding trust and goodwill, both among his people and with his former lover, but Nesta knew Feyre was still uneasy around him. They wanted to be something closer to allies, since friendship was not likely for years yet. Still, Feyre had taken Tamlin’s place as “Most Despised” in the eyes of her former people.

At least, that was what she feared.

 _Today_ all that planning and preparation was coming to a head. The Army of Prythian was reunited to witness this ceremony, to watch their saviors Rhysand and Feyre stand in the middle of the High Lords and wed the devastatingly beautiful Lady of Death to the ruggedly handsome Lord of Bloodshed.

Cassian was closer than he’d been to Nesta in weeks, readying himself just as she was for the first of their three ceremonies: Human, Illyrian, and then a traditional Faerie presentation of food.

Nesta’s knuckles were white as she held the wooden braces that kept her from smudging Elain and Feyre’s work. Her dress was only half on, leaving her bare chest cold. Amren was braiding her hair as Mor finished her makeup bit by bit. At first it was humiliating to sit in the center of the large tent half-naked with so many rushing about, but as Elain finished the final strokes of paint on her arm, Nesta’s anxiety and worry were focused _solely_ on what was yet to come.

“You’re turning green. Eat this.” Mor shoved what looked like a cube of taffy in Nesta’s mouth. She growled viciously, but ate it all the same.

The relief was instantaneous. Her muscles relaxed, her mind cleared, and a bit of the stress melted away.

“What was that?”

“Something you can’t have more of and shouldn’t tell anyone I gave you.” Mor shrugged and returned to the vanity, deliberately avoiding Feyre’s incredulous stare. “It will keep you vertical for four hours or so, and by then the third ceremony will have started and you won’t need it anymore. Close your eyes.” She quickly dipped a thin brush into a jar of kohl and set to work.

“Mor, did you just drug my sister?”

She frowned at Feyre, confused, “Pardon me, High Lady, but I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Fine, don’t tell me.”

“Don’t ask Rhys either.” Mor winked and quickly applied some liner to Nesta’s other eye.

Feyre rolled her eyes and came to inspect Elain’s work, “Put a little cross over this one.”

“Right!” Elain dipped her paintbrush into the ink and quickly finished the writing that ran to Nesta’s wrist, “There, done.”

When Mor was finished, Nesta inspected Elain and Feyre’s handiwork. As per Illyrian custom, they had painted intricate whorls up both arms from wrist to shoulder. They joined in a ridged pattern across Nesta’s chest- one that mirrored Cassian’s own tattoos.

Feyre designed the markings with Rhysand’s help. Any Illyrian close enough to see would read on Nesta’s skin the marks of her bloodline, her victory against Hybern, and the equal accomplishments of her mate. It was a story to the Illyrians, and a reminder what kind of wrath would fall upon them should any make a move against the happy couple.

“You spelled that wrong.” Mor pointed to something on Feyre’s side. She was the only female in the tent fluent in Illyrian.

“What?!” Feyre and Nesta both snapped.

“Just joking.” She patted Nesta on the head and flashed a bratty grin to Feyre, “Everything is fine.”

Both Archerons shot her a dirty look, which only made Mor’s smile brighter as she skipped off to the makeup table once more.

The scent of citrus-and-sea filled the air as Feyre’s magic washed over the paint, sinking it beneath the skin. It would fade within a few hours, but no longer risked smearing or staining her gown. Amren stepped back from her hair as Nesta lowered her arms and rolled her shoulders. Her sisters helped pull the top of the gown up to cover her bare chest at last.

The gown was a compromise between Illyrian and human designs. It fell to the ground in a skirt free of embellishment and covered her breasts, but left her chest largely exposed to emphasize the ink. A white belt sat high on her ribs and attached to thin tulle that covered her shoulders. The fabric did little to interrupt Elain and Feyre’s hard work.

Nesta did not mind the scandalous neckline or even transparent ‘sleeves’, but when she’d chosen the dress it was for a ceremony with just her family in attendance. Now that half of Prythian would be there, she was more than a little nervous. Per Illyrian tradition, the dress was largely backless to show off the wings of the female, hobbled as they were. For Nesta it was just… drafty. She was highly aware of how much skin was exposed beneath the trailing veil Amren clipped into her hair.

The females wore matching gowns of navy blue- the official color of the Night Court. Silver filigree banded around their necks to hold the front of the gowns, with another line beneath their breasts, linking the top and bottom portions of the dress. It was a more modest version of the traditional Court attire- those loose pants and the too-short shirt that left the midriff exposed.

Feyre would be in a simple navy gown with a necklace and crown made of the same silver filigree the handmaidens wore. She was High Lady of Night on this day, another change in the plans thanks to Nesta and Cassian’s decision to allow the Illyrian Camp Lords in- a choice that snowballed the ceremony into a Prythian-wide event.

With the dress fully on, hair done, makeup applied, veil fixed, and the paint sunk beneath her skin, it was time for the females to signal that they were ready for the processional to begin. Nesta would not see Cassian until she began the half-mile walk through the Illyrian honor guard towards the dais, where every High Lord and Lady would be waiting.

Nesta took Feyre and Elain’s hands in hers and swallowed through the lump in her throat. She didn’t look at them, _couldn’t_ \- not while thoughts were so near of who wouldn’t be attending: their mother long dead, and the father cut down before Nesta could give him her forgiveness.

Feyre’s breath hitched and Elain squeezed her hand. Knowing her sister’s shared her thoughts both eased the burden and somehow made their absence harder to ignore.

“Oh no you don’t.” Mor flicked her wrist at Nesta, “Don’t fuck up my hard work before you even _see_ Cassian.” A shield slid over the makeup to protect it from tears.

“Ready?” Feyre asked.

“Ready.”

Feyre squeezed Nesta’s hand and headed across the tent. Rich rugs and cushions were piled here and there beside trunks that once held each female’s gown. A long silver cord hung near the door. With a tug, a silver bell would chime, its call amplified across the camp through Feyre’s own magic. The crowds were already gathered and in place, waiting to hear that chime.

Before Feyre could pull the rope, a hand shot through the main flap in the tent- one tattooed in the same pattern as Feyre’s left, “For the bride, from the groom.” Rhys flicked his wrist and a large, flat box crossed with Illyrian markings appeared on one of the empty seats beside Nesta. Rhysand never looked in the tent- in case one of the females was not yet presentable- but Nesta could _feel_ his wink to Feyre as the hand vanished and he returned to the groom’s tent.

Even though Rhys’ magic brought her the gift, Nesta could _smell_ Cassian on the box. A note was stuck to the top of it-

> ‘Ha-ha. You’re going to be stuck with me forever.’

The note chased away any lingering nerves or worry that Mor’s drugged candy had missed. That scent, that bratty tone- that was _hers_ now. _He_ was hers.

She opened the box, and her heart swelled to bursting.

Delicate plates of white gold were carved with intricate shapes and held together by near-invisible chains. Nine ruby stones were embedded in those plates and when Nesta touched them they exploded in light. Their glow filled the engraved channels, a red river of light that illuminated runes very similar to the ones painted on her arms. Those nine stones- the way they glowed when she touched them-

“Conservatives among the Illyrians still believe there is no use for females beyond breeding stock or to use as hostages against their mates.” Feyre waved Elain over to help her lift the chains and fix them to hidden hooks in the back of Nesta’s gown, “Cassian asked Rhysand after your first time _alone_ together for permission to have this made. He asked as an Illyrian to his Camp Lord, took a knee and everything… Then he asked me to make sure your dresses today were cut right to hold them.”

Nine siphons. _Nine_. As the chains held them to her skin, every last one of them glowed bright. Cassian’s gift restored some of her modesty, but it also sent a very clear message to everyone in attendance: Nesta was _not_ his equal. She was his _superior_. Nine siphons against his seven- she was not a female to underestimate or threaten. She was _not_ breeding stock, but someone to both respect and fear.

“What do they say?” Nesta held her veil aside and studied the runes in the mirror.

Mor came over to inspect them as Feyre did her best to recall the lessons Rhys had given her, “Cauldron-forged. Cauldron-blessed… Demon-witch?” She frowned at the last title, but Nesta only laughed.

“Is it-“ Mor read the last set of runes, “-no, that _does_ say ‘Demon-Witch’.”

Nesta laughed, “It’s a pet name.”

“Alright then,” Feyre chuckled and returned to the door to pull that silver bell.

Somewhere in the distance trumpets blared, signaling the start of the processional. It would take more than half an hour for the guests of honor to all make their way to the dais where the first two ceremonies would be held.

Kier and his wife would be first, followed by the Governors of Velaris, then the Illyrian Camp Lords, the visiting High Lords (and Lady), then the same priestess who oversaw Feyre’s swearing in as High Lady, Rhys and Feyre themselves, and Nesta’s handmaidens escorted by their males.

Once all were in place, Cassian would enter alone. Only when he reached the dais would it be Nesta’s turn.

Human weddings had the bride brought forward by her father or oldest male relative to be _given_ to her husband like some piece of property. As per _fae_ tradition, Nesta would present herself. She would go to her mate on her own, willingly.

Feyre waved her hand and the wooden poles vanished from the sides of Nesta’s chair. Mor, Amren, and Elain gathered around her to stand and wait. Even with whatever Mor had slipped to her, even with a hint of Cassian’s scent wafting off the jewelry he’d sent, nerves began to creep in.

The minutes crawled by. Nesta found herself clutching Amren’s hand tightly. What if she did something wrong? What if she tripped? What if Rhys forgot to put the shield up that kept the sun from burning her? Was that something Helion could do? Should she have asked _him_?

The crowds outside her tent were relaxed and really just impatient for the ceremonies to be over so the fae games could begin. Still, once the High Lords began their walk to the dais, every last soldier fell silent to watch. Tamlin would enter first, alone. Once he stepped onto the carpet even Nesta could feel the silent hostility rolling off of the Illyrians. Behind him came Beron with Lucien’s mother on his right and Eris at his left, then Kallias with Viviane, Thesan and his mate, Tarquin with Cresseida, and finally Helion, unaccompanied.

They were arranged from the southernmost Courts up- at least that was how Rhysand explained it to them. In reality, he kept his favorites closer and the annoying ones further away.

Elain took Nesta’s hand and squeezed it with a smile. She was scared too, and with good reason. This would be the first time she ever formally _met_ Lucien’s parents, let alone meeting them as his _mate_. Beron could make no move against Lucien or Elain in the gathering (Rhysand had bound him with oaths not to), but it was the Lady of Autumn that Elain was more worried about. Her life was destined to be significantly longer than her husband’s, and Elain wanted to make a good first impression.

At long last, the blaring of trumpets quieted and were replaced by a trilling flute. The priestess was making her way up the aisle.

“Ready?” Feyre whispered.

“Are _you_?”

“I’ll see you up there.” Feyre stuck her tongue out at her sister and gave her one last hug before heading out of the tent to meet Rhysand.

The light music of the flute stopped, and moments later trumpets and drums joined together to blast the official anthem of the Night Court for all to hear. Rhysand and Feyre were making their entrance, the most powerful High Lord and Lady in the history of Prythian- the male who’s power healed the Cauldron itself, and the mate who brought him back from the dead (with a little help).

All too slowly and yet all too soon, it was time for Amren, Mor, and Elain to leave Nesta and join their male escorts outside. Elain kissed Nesta’s cheek, wiped at her own eyes, and went to find her mate.

Nesta’s hands began to shake as the tent flap fell into place behind them. She could hear Mor joking with Azriel, Elain and Lucien’s murmured flirtations, and even the comfortable silence between Amren and Varian. Suddenly, mating on accident or in secret like the others did not sound like such a bad idea.

_Why was I so against it? If I ran into that tent right now and grabbed Cassian, he could fly us out before any of this-_

The music shifted again as the couples began their walk down the aisle. Nesta jumped and began to pace furiously. She realized abruptly that were her father there to give her away, at least she wouldn’t be _alone_ waiting for the most terrifying moment of her life. She tried to calm down, she tried to sit once more, but the seat was blasted to ash. Nesta merely turned in the direction of the other two stools and they too were disintegrated. She closed her eyes and focused on slowing her breathing, but the anxiety would not let go.

The siphons on her back crackled and sparked trying to contain her power.

Once the couples reached the dais, the trumpets faded. Illyrian drums pounded out suddenly, and a great cheer rose from the armies of the Illyrian steppes. Nesta turned sharply towards the tent entrance. She _heard_ Cassian’s chuckle as he walked past, even over the cacophony of sound. A talon lightly scraped the fabric, wings wholly unfurled. His siphons _bled_ power, not filling the world like Rhys or Feyre did, but the wave of might that washed over everyone was certainly enough to make his presence known.

Three weeks since she last saw him, but when a breath of cinnamon air slid into the tent, everything in her wanted nothing more than to tackle that prick and mate with him right there in the middle of the army, audience be damned. His scent was stronger, fresher than the faint whiff on the jewelry, and it set her blood burning.

She heard another soft laugh, then the stroke of a knuckle against the wall of the tent in silent promise and comfort.

Still, she was _prowling_ by the time the drums paused, trumpets blared out once, and then the wild music resumed. At long last, it was her turn.

Nesta covered her face with a shorter layer of her veil, threw open the tent flap and stepped out into the gathered masses.

The bride’s tent sat across from the groom’s at the end of the wedding aisle. She walked straight-backed to the center of that aisle and turned to stare down the gathered armies of Prythian.

If it weren’t for the war, Nesta might have turned right back around and hid in the tent. Unfortunately (or perhaps _fortunately_ for Cassian’s sake), she’d stood with the Night Court before so many on the battlefield against Hybern.

Having all the attention focused solely on _her_ was something new.

Tens of thousands lined the long wedding aisle- Illyrian, faerie, and High Fae alike. They’d come with their courts from across Prythian to bask in the presence of the Archerons, to see for themselves the newly revealed Court of Dreams hidden behind the Court of Nightmares.

Feyre Cursebreaker, the human-turned-fae who’d first saved them all from Amarantha was smiling in the distance, standing beside a small female who must have been their chosen priestess. Between the heads and wings of at least three different types of faerie, Nesta just barely spied Elain. She’d drawn significant whispers herself- being the female who first stabbed Hybern in the throat.

Nesta, however, was the Archeron who slowly sawed off the King’s head and ended the battle.

She was the Archeron who stole sacred might from the Cauldron itself, and as a frightened _human_.

Fate had touched the Archeron line, and within a year all of Prythian had seen the impossible from the three sisters. The entire continent lived in fear and wonder at what they might accomplish with a _hundred_ years.

Nesta stepped onto the velvet carpet of the aisle and did precisely as Amren taught her: she hauled up that piece she’d taken from the Cauldron- a chunk of creation itself- and lowered her shields. The whisper of the Cauldron’s might touched everyone she passed. Her magic was something heavy, unnatural, and powerful enough to make even Rhysand think twice.

She was a contradiction to herself, a vision of the perfect half-fae, half-human bride in her long white gown and trailing veil. Slender, proud, delicate, imperious, and devastatingly beautiful… Yet those siphons on her back glowed bright, crackling with that sense of _other_ that bled from her. Something dark and cold shone in her eyes, as though a demon prowled beneath the angelic surface.

Whispers spread from those Nesta passed once they saw the jeweled backing, the siphons straining to contain her raw power. Many made signs to ward against evil.

 _Let them fear me_. Nesta let a little more of that other-ness creep into her eyes. Several Illyrians took a step back. _See what the Cauldron deemed equal to your bastard-born nobody. The child you abused, the boy left to scrape out his survival in the cold. Look at his mate, his equal, and know that I now claim that male as my prize over everyone else gathered here._

Cassian’s wings peeked out over the army and a bit of the danger slid from Nesta’s eyes. Death herself, a proclaimed “Demon-Witch”, and yet when she saw even a solitary obsidian talon, ferocity melted into love.

The High Lords and Ladies of Prythian stood tall in muted finery. All kept their power dampened somewhat, lending themselves to the ceremony without overshadowing the couple. Tamlin did not so much as cast an eye to Feyre or Lucien. The Lady of Autumn stared blankly ahead, barely resisting looking to Elain only five feet away. Even Beron’s natural sneer was mostly gone, thanks to Rhys’ warnings.

Nesta marked every last fae on the dais, even as she walked a little faster. Even as her eyes flicked across their line, _desperate_ for a glimpse of her mate’s face.

When she saw him at long last, her heart soared. His hair was brushed and clean (thanks to Feyre’s reminder), his uniform was as polished as those razer-sharp talons on his wings. He stood just a bit taller when her blue eyes met his hazel and Nesta’s breath caught in her throat. A look of wonder spread across his face with no mask daring to hide it. Love, pride, and joy made those eyes overbright.

_Home. Love. Mate._

There were several shouts of alarm when Nesta vanished, reappearing before Cassian in an instant.

Her first winnow was to his side.

Mirth danced in Cassian’s eyes as gasps went through the crowd and the drums fell into a clumsy silence. Rhys laughed first, followed by Helion and Tarquin. Even Feyre and the priestess laughed at the impatient bride before Cassian took her hands in his and the first ceremony began.

“Nesta Archeron, do you come to wed this male of your own free will and with the blessing of your matriarch?” Rhysand’s voice boomed over the crowd.

“With the blessing of Feyre Cursebreaker, I come to wed this male.” Nesta repeated.

“Seriously?” Cassian shot Rhys a dirty look and the High Lord of Night winked. Nesta had to bite her cheeks to stop from laughing. She was terrified before the ceremony began, righteous as she walked down the aisle, and now she just felt _giddy_.

Among Illyrians, the female whose husband had the highest status within a family line was automatically the matriarch over her unwed siblings. Feyre felt strange taking such a position of authority over her elder sister, but she cleared her throat and stepped forward.

“Cassian Bastard-born, do you come to wed this female of your own free will and with the blessing of your Camp Lord?” It killed Feyre to use the Illyrian name, but it wouldn’t matter to Cassian much longer anyways.

“With the blessing of Rhysand, Lord of Night and Camp Lord of the Night-Wing clan, I come to wed this female.” His voice wobbled on the last word and he squeezed Nesta’s hand tighter. Cassian released her left hand and they turned to face Feyre and Rhysand fully.

Every Illyrian _had_ to belong to a clan, but the General of the Night Court armies _had_ to be above all other Camp Lords. Every High Lord, even Rhysand’s pureblood father, was considered Camp Lord of the Night-Wing clan. Azriel and Cassian were the only members under Rhysand, but it was a clan the males could not be prouder to be a part of. And now it would be Nesta’s clan too.

“Nesta Archeron, as your matriarch I bless this marriage and reaffirm my consent. As your Camp Lady-“ Feyre cast an eye at the gathered Illyrians, _daring_ them to so much as snort at the title Rhysand had given her, “-I swear to protect your union in word and deed. I will defend your mate in battle, and protect his life at all costs.” She put a hand on her sister’s shoulder and they gently pressed their foreheads together.

“Cassian Bastard-born, as your Camp Lord I bless this marriage and reaffirm my consent. As your Camp Lord, I swear to protect your union in word and deed. I will defend your mate in battle, and protect her life at all costs.” Rhysand and Cassian repeated the female’s gesture.

Rhys and Feyre both stepped back and the first of two dozen Illyrian Camp Lords stepped forward. He was a male Nesta knew by sight alone- the current Lord of the camp Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel had trained in as children.

“I, Lord Devlon of the Dark-Wing clan swear to protect the union of my General and Nesta Archeron in word and deed. Lady Archeron, I will defend your mate in battle, and protect him with my life. Commander, I pledge my blade to the guardianship of your mate and family.”

Lord Devlon drew his blade and handed it hilt-first to Cassian. He took the Illyrian sword in hand and pressed the blade to Devlon’s throat hard enough to draw a single bead of blood, “I accept your oath, and hold you to your word.”

Cassian handed the blade to Nesta. She had practiced for this moment with him hundreds of times, but still waited until she felt Feyre’s magic wrap around her hand before lifting the blade. Nesta let her sister guide her hand until she too drew a single bead of blood, “I accept your oath, and hold you to your word.”

Nesta passed the blade back to Lord Devlin, who sheathed it and returned to his spot on the dais. The beads of blood would not be washed off or wiped away until the end of the Illyrian and human ceremonies.

One by one the Camp Lords came forward to swear their oaths. One by one Cassian, then Nesta, would hold their blades to the Lord’s throat and draw blood to mark the oaths. One male, a sallow-faced Lord who looked _vaguely_ familiar, practically spat the words out. When Cassian held the blade to his throat, he ‘accidentally’ let the tip dig in a bit more than necessary. Though she helped Nesta draw the single required drop of blood, Feyre glared at the back of the male’s head with obvious distaste.

They played their roles in the Illyrian ceremony without any further incident. At long last, the final Camp Lord swore his oath, Nesta and Cassian drew their drops of blood, and Rhysand stepped forward once more with Feyre’s hand clasped in his.

“Cassian Bastard-born, by our laws and traditions you have no name to give your bride. I hereby declare you Cassian Archeron, General of the Illyrian armies. I have given you the name of my Camp Lady’s family, may you wear it with pride and honor your new lineage always. _Or else_.” He winked, then clapped his hands, “As High Lord of Night, and your Camp Lord, I declare you wed by the laws of the Illyrians. Nesta Archeron, I welcome you to the Night-Wing clan.”

“Neasta Archeron, as your husband is without a father-“ Feyre could not force herself to call Cassian bastard-born as though that was all he could ever be, “-I hereby welcome him into the Archeron family. May he bring you mighty children to honor our family name. As High Lady of Night, and as your Camp Lady, I declare you wed by the laws of the Illyrians. Cassian Archeron, I welcome you to my family.”

“If there is no objection, I shall now officiate the human ceremony.” The priestess stepped between Feyre and Rhysand. Human ceremonies were usually performed by whoever the nearest Lord was. Considering that would _again_ be Feyre and Rhysand, Nesta and Cassian agreed to let the priestess preside over this part of the ceremony.

“I bid you repeat after me, and know your words are marked by the gods of all those gathered here, and by the Cauldron we all bow before. Lord Archeron-“

Cassian turned to stare into Nesta’s eyes as he echoed the priestess, “I, Cassian Archeron, take you, Nesta Archeron, as my wife. I swear to love you, to share my life openly and truthfully with you always. I vow to care for you in health or illness, in wealth and poverty, through every heartbeat from now until my last- and even then I will not break this vow.” Cassian added the last bit unprompted. Once again, his eyes shone overbright and his voice grew breathless.

Nesta smiled and began to repeat the words before the priestess even spoke, “I, Nesta Archeron, take you, Cassian Archeron, as my husband. I swear to love you, to share my life openly and truthfully with you always. I vow to care for you in health or illness, in wealth and _especially_ in poverty, through every heartbeat from now until my last- and even then I will not break this vow.” A happy tear slid down her cheek.

“High Lord?” The priestess bid Rhysand come forward. He handed her the ring Cassian had chosen for Nesta with a bow of his head. The priestess said a prayer over it, then gave it to Cassian. This time he alone was responsible for remembering the vow.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness. As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you. I ask you to wear this ring as a reminder of the vows we have spoken today.” Cassian slid a white-gold ring onto Nesta’s finger. It held in its center one final red siphon that flared to life as it touched her skin.

Feyre brought forth the band Nesta had chosen for Cassian- one of silver engraved with Illyrian runes declaring him her mate. The priestess blessed it just as she had the other ring and gave it to Nesta.

She repeated Cassian’s words perfectly as she slid the ring onto his finger, “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness. As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you. I ask that you wear this ring as a reminder of the vows we have spoken today.”

The priestess raised her arms, “I hereby declare you married in the eyes of the gods of Illyrians, Humans, and Faerie. Your union- a bargain between souls to honor forever the oaths taken this day- shall be sealed with a kiss.”

A tear slipped from Cassian’s eye, in spite of the wild grin that spread across his face as he turned to Nesta and lifted the front of her veil.

“You’re stuck with me now.”

“ _You’re_ stuck with _me_.” Nesta laughed and tears slipped from her own eyes.

Cassian laughed and lifted Nesta into his arms to kiss her. She threw every last bit of will she possessed into an image- a form she wanted the physical manifestation of their bargain to appear in. There was a ripple of heat across her skin and Nesta felt Cassian smile against her mouth as the assembled crowd exploded into riotous cheers.

Cassian broke the kiss to smile at Feyre and Rhysand- now family in an entirely new way- before picking up his bride and spinning her in a wide circle, their lips joined once more.

He set her down, flashed a bratty grin at Azriel, and led his bride off the dais. They hurried down the aisle together, through the crowd of Illyrians both cheering and marveling at the couple who passed.

Seventeen red siphons burned and crackled with the sheer _might_ of that angelic bride and warrior-groom.

As soon as they entered the bridal tent, Cassian swept Nesta into his arms and spun around yet again, “My wife.”

“My husband.” She couldn’t smile broadly enough at the simple joy on her mate’s face.

They kissed and Cassian laughed, “Wife. My wife.” He simply held her, his smile utterly unchecked.

Nesta just stared into his hazel eyes, at the raw, unbridled happiness there, “Husband, can I stand?” Cassian made a face and lowered Nesta so that her feet were at last touching the ground. She did not release him though, she simply rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and savoring the scent of him. Nesta felt the bond their oaths created between them like something warm and beautiful and _alive_. She also felt the mating bond waiting, glowing ever so softly as though it knew it’s time would soon come.

“We should get changed for the last ceremony.” Nesta begrudgingly stepped away from Cassian and nodded to the back of the tent where a looser, lighter set of clothes waited for the fae ceremony, “Unless you want to dine in full armor.”

Cassian pouted, looking for any excuse to skip the fae ceremony and leave with his bride then and there. He could see her determination in her eyes and released Nesta, flicking the tulle of her veil, “I never understood why human women wore those.” He backed away from her, towards the changing area, “You know what, though? It’s giving me ideas. Too bad you’re taking it off before we mate…”

“Go, _husband_. We only have half an hour until the next ceremony.” Nesta stuck her tongue out at him.

Cassian savored the sight of her in the white gown and veil one last time, “As you wish, _wife_.”

While Rhys made speeches to the assembled Illyrians, faerie, and fae (mostly threats about what would happen if anyone started a brawl), Nesta and Cassian were to change into more comfortable clothes for the mating ceremony. They would be seated at the head of three tables in the center of the High Lords. Nesta would present Cassian with the Illyrian dish she’d set to cook that morning (which Mor was winnowing back to Velaris to retrieve), he would eat, and that was that.

The third ceremony was more of a reception than anything. The Illyrian Camp Lords would all attend along with the High Lords and Ladies, the Governors of Velaris, and Kier- seated as far from anyone consequential as possible. All assembled soldiers- and most of the guard from each Court- would be competing in various games against one another throughout the camp. That was when those mountains of alcohol would be unleashed.

Once the meal was done, Nesta and Cassian would be free to leave and finally activate that mating bond. Everyone else would be free to participate in (or gamble on) the games.

While the Illyrians and other soldiers prepared for their fun, and those on the dais took a break on their way to the dining pavilion, Cassian and Nesta had time to catch their wits and simply _be_ with one another. Feyre and Rhys made the couple swear binding oaths not to mate before the final ceremony- putting Cassian in a room full of males while fresh in the mating frenzy was nothing short of suicidal.

Mating was only allowed _before_ the first ceremony as an out, or _after_ the third. If they tried anything too close to mating between ceremonies, the penalty would be _severe_ (which was as specific as Rhysand ever got).

Cassian reminded himself of that constantly as he let the ceremonial Illyrian leathers vanish back into the siphons on his hands. He pulled on white linen pants and an embroidered tunic, smiling at the memory of Nesta walking through the Illyrian army as that veil caught in the wind. ‘Radiant’ did not do it justice. It had looked like a goddess walked among the soldiers.

Neta was his heart, his soul, and his reason to smile- yet in that moment he’d realized more wholly than ever before that she was also his home, his future, and his light in any darkness.

When he stepped out of the dressing room, he also remembered that she was his bane.

She was sitting with her back to him, kneeling on a thick red rug with her veil arranged all around her-

-and beneath it she was utterly naked.

“I didn’t want you getting _too_ disappointed,” Nesta said sweetly. She did not turn to face him.

“You are a _monster_ ,” he rasped. Cassian knew that after three weeks away from her he couldn’t stop himself from mating with her wholly if they made love. There was no more fending off the bond. Thanks to his promise to Rhys and Feyre, he also knew that mating _had_ to wait.

Cassian didn’t know where to look as he walked up slowly behind her- at the curve of her hips? The dimples at the base of her spine? At the way her back moved as she swayed? Or perhaps at the new and very permanent tattoo that marked their vows to one another upon the dais-

-a pair of Illyrian wings that spread from one shoulder to the other. Nesta’s hips swayed as Cassian’s hand touched her veil, tracing the line of the tattoo through it.

“Do you like the wings?” Nesta sighed.

“They’re beautiful.” He tore his eyes from the tattoo only when he noticed a soft, slick sound coming from her. Cassian stepped around Nesta and he stood in front of her at last.

“I can’t help it. I know we _promised_ , but I want you so badly.” The movement of her hips continued, slow and rhythmic. He could _smell_ her arousal.

Cassian watched the finger of Nesta’s right hand move between her legs, parting her folds and dipping into her core. Another wave of scent hit him as she rubbed her wet fingers around her knot and leaned back a little, putting herself on display for her mate. Her left hand flicked and twisted a nipple on her perfect, pert breasts, and Cassian swallowed hard against the urge to run his mouth over them.

“I can’t have you yet,” Nesta whispered, staring up at him, “but I need you, and I can’t wait.” Her lust-glazed eyes were pleading.

Cassian knew exactly what she wanted.

He pulled his linen pants down to his ankles and threw aside his shirt. Along his ribs, where Nesta stroked his sides as they recovered from their lovemaking, were the marks of _his_ vows. He’d chosen to mark his body in a place that would remind Nesta of their union- and the oaths he swore to her- every time they were joined.

Cassian stood erect already, and when he knelt down knee-to-knee with Nesta, she stopped her slow strokes until he held his palm out to her, pleading. She knew what he wanted. Nesta leaned forward and took two of Cassian’s fingers in her mouth. He cursed and clenched his other hand in a fist, fighting the urge to take her then and there. Nesta smiled and released his fingers, her own body aching for him.

He kept his hand outstretched, fingers trembling, and she tipped forward once more, this time to spit onto his palm. Cassian immediately wrapped his hand around his cock and rubbed her scent into the shaft. As close as they were to mating, even just that much of Nesta on his skin sent bolts of pure pleasure through his body.

As soon as he had control over himself, he nodded. Nesta slid her fingers back into her depths and Cassian matched the strokes of her hand with his own. She gasped as she stared into his eyes, her cheeks flush. Her hips rolled and they both took hold of the shadow of their mating bond.

The fingers inside Nesta began to feel thicker, longer. To Cassian the hand around his cock seemed to grow softer and more delicate. They joined just as they had before their first night together, when Nesta and Cassian stroked themselves in two very separate baths.

“You look… so beautiful…” Cassian groaned.

“It’s for you,” Nesta’s voice was breathless as she ground her hips against her hand. “When the last ceremony is over I’m going to _drag_ you out of that tent and-“ those fingers that weren’t quite hers anymore raked across a sensitive ridge of skin deep inside, “ _yes_!”

Cassian stroked himself faster to match the pace of her fingers. His bride parted her legs further so that he could see how wet even _thinking_ about having him was making her. Moisture dripped from her and she squeezed her breast hard.

“ _You’re so deep,_ ” she gasped, those blue eyes still gazing into his, “ _so deep inside me. It feels so good, don’t stop! I want more, I want it harder_.”

“Nesta,” he moaned, wishing he could feel his lips on her wing but knowing that _barely_ touching was part of this game, “ _you feel so soft, so tight. You’re going to make me-_ “

“ _Come_ ,” she rose higher and began to ride her fingers in earnest. Cassian took one look as Nesta parted her folds again and his balls tightened. She raked her fingers across her knot and plunged them back into her body with a cry of pleasure, “ _Come for your wife._ ”

 _Wife_. That word completely wrecked him.

“ _Nesta!”_ Cassian’s hips bucked and cum began to pump from his cock, thick and hot.

A rope hit Nesta’s leg and she quickly scooped it up in her wet fingers, then plunged them inside once more.

She didn’t even get the _chance_ to shout his name. His cum made her burn wherever it touched, made her pleasure molten and overpowering. Her hips bucked. When another spray landed across her stomach she took that and swirled it around her knot.

Nesta screamed as Cassian let out another cry and leaned forward, still pumping furiously as more shot from him in a third, fourth, and fifth rope that landed across her folds. She quickly pushed it into her waiting body. Her own body shook and shuddered with the wave of ecstasy that ripped through her.

At last her climax ended and she slowed her fingers. Cassian was panting still when she fell back and gently rubbed her core, soothing her body while sparks of burning pleasure crackled between her legs. He licked his lips, staring now at those breasts he was not yet allowed to touch.

“I wish I could have you here and now.” Nesta whispered. She parted her legs and continued to swirl her finger lightly around her entrance. She kept her arms close, pushing up her breasts to tease her husband.

“I want nothing more.” Cassian abruptly shot forward and shoved Nesta’s fingers away before latching his mouth onto her hips. He worked quickly, not trusting his will to hold out for more than a few seconds. Nesta cried out as Cassian’s tongue darted into her, then lapped up her release, savoring the taste.

Nesta’s eyes were glazed when he backed away, as quickly as he’d pounced. She whimpered when he stood and wiped his mouth with a shiver. Goosebumps rose across his body.

Cassian kicked off his linen pants and went to the refreshment table. He gathered two hand towels and wetted both with a silver pitcher. One he kept for himself, one he tossed to Nesta, “We still have to go to the other ceremony. I’d prefer not having everyone smell us.” Cool as his words were, he still put a couple of ice cubes into his towel to wipe himself down.

Nesta resisted making a show of cleaning herself up. She was shaking just as badly as he was, and she hadn’t even gotten the chance to taste him, “I wanted to lick you clean too.”

“ _Neither_ of us would have been able to stop. After working so hard to put on that show, I thought you deserved to be cleaned.”

“The reward would have been your cock in my-“

“Don’t torture me, I don’t want to stick my cock in that ice water but I _will_ if you keep talking.” Mirth danced in Cassian’s eyes.

Nesta stood and finished wiping herself off. She tossed the towel into a bin by the table and smiled. Cassian retrieved his pants and came back to her, shirtless. He pulled her body against his, relishing not only the feeling of her naked breasts, but the simple act of _holding_ her.

 His friend. His lover. His wife. His mate.

“Thank you,” he whispered into her ear.

“That was a nice way to take the edge off.” She kissed him, a long, slow kiss that made her toes curl with delight. When the kiss ended, both were smiling, “Thank you for the siphons. Do they go on the second dress too?”

He nodded, “Nuala and Cerridwen sewed the clasps in themselves.” He’d forgotten to look for the two in their place of honor at the very edge of the dais. On this day he and Nesta made it very clear they were to enjoy themselves, not serve anyone. Though, with so many gathered Cassian had no doubt Azriel had given the half-wraiths missions of their own.

“Help me get dressed.” Nesta let Cassian pull the veil from her hair and arched her back _just enough_ to make him swallow hard. He only tore his eyes away from her full breasts when she turned to fetch her second dress- and then those eyes monitored the curve of her ass as she walked away.

Nesta pulled a second white gown from behind a dressing curtain and threw it at Cassian, “When you’re done, hand it to me without peaking. And put a shirt on.”

While he set about finding Nesta’s first dress and removing the siphons, she was in the dressing room pulling on delicate white underclothes she could hardly _look at_ without blushing, especially once she started imagining how Cassian would react to them later.

Elain and Feyre had taken her to the lace store in Velaris to prepare for her mating night. While Nesta browsed with a beet-red face, Feyre and Elain also bought some delicates to wear for their males. They told her what to expect when the frenzy took hold- which was nothing short of _mortifying_ coming from her baby sisters.

Still, Nesta filed their information away in her mind.

“All done, wife.” Cassian’s hand appeared through cloth flaps with her second gown- siphons and all.

“Thank you, _husband_.” Nesta loved saying the word and knowing that for the rest of her life, that one word was his alone. He felt the same when he called her ‘wife’, and soon enough they would truly be able to add ‘mate’ to the list.

If they could just get through the third ceremony.

Nesta took the dress and, to punish him for the tongue between her legs, angled her chest so that his knuckles brushed across the flimsy lace covering her peaked nipple.

“Demon-witch!” he hissed and snatched his hand back. A moment later Nesta heard him curse again, this time from the direction of the refreshment table as he doused himself with cold water.

“I hope you took the pants off first,” she laughed and finished dressing with a smile on her face.

Her second gown was more Court of Nightmares in the design, with Illyrian elements to bring it up to Nesta’s standard of dress. Two long panels ran over her breasts and gathered at a wide, jeweled belt that crossed most of her torso. Layers upon layers of loose strips of tulle formed the skirt, but Nuala and Cerridwen had added a white underskirt that was invisible unless Nesta sat down. It ensure the strips of cloth did not shift to expose her bare legs. The top half of the dress, which initially left the center of her chest exposed down to her naval, had been filled with thick white gauze and a layer of Illyrian-made lace.

Overall it was looser than her first dress, cooler in the summer heat (not that Rhys would allow the pavilion to grow too warm), and matched Cassian’s light tunic.

“I like this one too.” Cassian grinned when Nesta stepped out at last.

“Good, you’ll be taking it off me later.”

Cassian closed his eyes and bit his lip. His brow furrowed in intense concentration, “Monster.”

“What are you doing?”

“Well, I’ve already subjected myself to the pitcher, now I’m picturing Azriel naked. We don’t have time for more fun and when you say stuff like that-“convincing his cock to stand down was a battle he _had_ to win.

Nesta smiled innocently, “Well? What’s he look like?”

“Small.” Cassian opened his eyes, “We aren’t going to the cabin by the way. Not the one I told you about at least.”

“Why not?” Cassian had seemed _so excited_ to take her to the mountain cabin the Inner Circle vacationed in. It was all he’d talked about as they planned the day (until it spiraled out of control).

“I went there three weeks ago to see if I needed to get anything ready- Feyre vandalized the place. Mor and Amren’s eyes are _painted above the door_. They follow you…” the drawings were cute and added a sense of home to the cabin, but he was not mating Nesta under the watchful gaze of _Amren_ and the female who took his virginity (to be fair, as he took hers). It was too strange. “Don’t worry, I have somewhere else we can go.”

“Eye free?”

“Eye free.”

“Are you two ready yet?” Mor hit the side of the bridal tent and Cassian drew Nesta in for a quick kiss.

“We leave as soon as possible,” she whispered, then headed out.

Mor, Azriel, Elain, Lucien, Amren, and Varian were waiting between the bridal and groom tents. The males had all changed into loose navy tunics with white pants to match Cassian’s. The females wore lightweight navy versions of their gowns for the first ceremony. Nesta wasn’t sure where they’d changed, but she appreciated the privacy it gave her with Cassian.

“The first Archeron to marry properly, of course it would be you.” Elain laughed and wrapped her arms around her sister’s neck, “And welcome to my family, brother.” She released Nesta and embraced Cassian. The males were gathering around him, clapping him on the back as the females swarmed the bride.

Amren sniffed Nesta as she offered the next hug. When Nesta released her, she looked to Varian, “Not mated.” There was a flurry of gold in the air as coins exchanged hands.

“STOP BETTING ON OUR MATING!” Cassian snapped.

“ _Mate_ and we’ll find something else to bet on.” Azriel accepted the most coins.

Drums started from somewhere deep in the city of tent and Mor shoved Cassian, “Go feed your wife. There’s still time for her to come to her senses.”

“Well, when you put it _that_ way-“ Cassian lunged for Nesta and hauled her up unceremoniously over one shoulder. She shouted in indignation as he jogged a few steps away from the laughing group.

“Put me down or I swear I will have a headache tonight and you can just _suffer_!” It was an empty threat, but Cassian had her on her feet faster than she thought he was capable of moving.

They all fell into a line with the females on the left and males to the right. Cassian was jostled by Azriel and Lucien, while Varian was distracted making eyes at Amren. At the edge of the dining tent, the males peeled off and made their entrance. Only Amren followed Varian inside, Azriel waited for Mor.

Mor paused at a table beside the entrance and pointed to two covered dishes, “Yours is on the right. I brought it over about ten minutes ago, but it’s still hot. Elain, the one on the left is for you to give Lucien.”

“Thank you so much for all your help.” The dish had gone into an Illyrian tandoor before the females all winnowed into the bridal tent. Mor had offered to finish assembling it once it was cooked and bring it to the tent.

“Happy mating.” Mor smiled brightly and followed Azriel into the dining tent.

When the males, Mor, and Amren were seated, a silence fell within the tent. Elain took the top off of her dish and entered ahead of her sister. She was mated already, and therefore didn’t have to prepare the dish herself. Presenting hers to Lucien was more of a gesture than anything. If Feyre was not hosting as High Lady, she would have been expected to present food to Rhysand too (though it was more likely he would buck tradition and bring _her_ food).

Nesta removed the cover from her dish. When the scent of chicken, rice, and herbs hit her she was suddenly (and audibly) reminded that she had not eaten that day. Mor’s little candy had worn off and Nesta’s stomach felt hollow. She held the dish tight and waited for the growling to stop before she entered the tent.

Everyone was standing, waiting for her. The Illyrian Camp Lords- on the eastern side of the tent- bowed as she passed. Kier and the Governors of Velaris were on the western side. At the back of the room, the High Lords stood with their High Ladies, Thesan with is husband, and Beron with Eris on one side and the Lady of Autumn on the other. She was simply watching Elain as she passed by and headed to Lucien on the opposite end of the table. Nephelle and her wife sat on the end beside Tamlin. They’d _asked_ to sit there, instead of their original seat by Helion’s side. The pair had nothing against Helion- he was one of Nephelle’s favorite High Lords thanks to his strange humor- but Drakon and Miryam had asked them to size up Tamlin, if he was really trustworthy, and so they requested the seating change.

The head table was _massive_ , long enough to seat everyone along one side. Cassian and Nesta would be in the middle with Lucien and Elain on one side, and Feyre and Rhys on the other. Mor and Azriel were seated between Viviane and Thesan, Amren was with Varian between Tarquin and Eris- a happy coincidence of placement that meant the terrifying little female would be a _constant_ reminder to Beron and his ilk to behave themselves. On Elain’s left was Helion, put beside the girl and her mate as a happy coincidence of seating (which Feyre was decidedly responsible for).

Nesta walked through the center of the room as everyone watched. Her spot at the table vanished to allow her to walk through the wood, then reappeared once she turned to face the assembled Camp Lords, High Lords, and Governors. The priestess, seated beside the Governor of the Palace of Thread and Jewels, stood as everyone save Cassian and Nesta sat down.

“I hereby declare and recognize the mating bond between these two souls. May the Cauldron bless you this day, and every day that follows.” She bowed low.

Nesta handed the plate of food to Cassian, “If I remember correctly, makbus is your favorite?” A few of the friendlier Camp Lords were sniffing the air appreciatively. Cassian grinned and picked up a chunk of chicken. He chewed it slowly, smiling all the while. When he swallowed a cheer rose up from the High Lords, Governors, and many of the Camp Lords. Drums sounded outside as Cassian sat down- beginning the warrior games.

“I made you something too.” Cassian nudged Nesta as Rhys waved a hand and food filled every table. In front of Nesta appeared a steaming plate of the same spicy Illyrian dish he’d made for her the night they first made love.

And so Nesta and Cassian ate, surrounded by their family, friends, and a few people they wouldn’t mind seeing dead. The Camp Lord Cassian had cut so deeply had to leave early after his food abruptly stopped agreeing with him. He dashed out green-faced and clutching his stomach.

Cassian’s chuckle when he fled earned an arched eyebrow from Nesta.

“It’s unfortunate when concentrated senna powder finds its way into someone’s food… Accidentally- of course.” He said softly. “The only thing that makes it more tragic is when it’s Azriel’s own dear brother who is the sole victim.”

Azriel’s brother. One of the males who’d tortured the boy throughout his childhood and scarred his hands so horribly.

Nesta understood why Cassian drew more blood than necessary. She just wished she’d mirrored him, “You should have killed him.”

Azriel leaned over far enough to make eye contact with Cassian from his end of the table. Cassian winked and Az stifled a snicker, “We poison him at every gathering. It’s a treasured pastime, until Azriel says Rhys and I can kill him.”

“I’d like to help with that.” What his brother had done to a defenseless child _already_ kept locked in a cage was disgusting.

“There is a line.” Feyre took a sip of her wine.

After he and Elain had both cleaned their plates, Lucien stood. Tamlin was quietly eating at the far end of the high table, trying to make himself as unnoticed as possible under the piercing glares of several Camp Lords. Lucien kissed Elain on the forehead and went to greet his old friend.

Considering Tamlin’s role in turning Nesta and Elain to High Fae, his abuse and neglect of Feyre, and his former alliance with Hybern (regardless of whose side he’d fought on in the end), all eyes were on Lucien when he held out a hand to shake Tamlin’s.

No one but Rhysand, Feyre, and Lucien knew the truth of Tamlin’s downfall- how he’d been driven mad trying to hide the fact that _Amarantha_ was his mate. All the gathered High Lords knew was that something had changed between Tamlin and Night- the vitriol and animosity were gone when he looked at the High Lord and Lady.

“How are you, old friend?”

Tamlin accepted Lucien’s hand and stood, “I am well- congratulations on your mating.” He embraced Lucien warmly.

Helion took advantage of the distraction to whisper to Elain, “You know, seer?”

“I do.”

He smiled gently, “I just wanted to tell you- I am proud to have such a lovely female as my daughter-in-law. He loves you with every fiber of his being, it makes me happy to know he is well care for.” Helion patted her hand, then settled back into polite conversation with Rhysand as most attention shifted from Lucien and Tamlin.

Eris stood with a sneer on his face and started making vaguely rude conversation with Lucien, drawing and holding his father’s attention. While her oldest provided distraction, the Lady of Autumn slipped out of her seat and was behind Elain in an instant. She avoided Helion’s gaze, and he stiffened as soon as her scent washed over him.

“L-lady Elain?” She spoke quickly and just prayed Eris could keep his father distracted. Rhysand casually slipped out of his chair, kissed Feyre’s cheek, and went to help needle Beron enough to hold his focus.

Elain rose from her seat and turned to the Lady of Autumn, “It is an honor to meet you at last,” she curtseyed deeply.

“The honor is mine. I have not seen my son so happy in centuries.” The Lady of Autumn looked over her shoulder, anxious, “I’m sorry, I don’t have time to welcome you properly into my family, but I wanted to give you this,” she pressed a heavy silk pouch into Elain’s hand. “Those have been passed down from mother to daughter in my family for seven thousand years. You are my first daughter, so now they belong to you.”

“Thank you, mother.” Elain embraced her and then kissed the Lady’s cheek.

She smiled warmly and the Lady of Autumn wiped a tear from her eye, “Bring him happiness, and make sure he brings you as much in return.” She turned and dashed back to her end of the table, arriving just before Beron thought to look for her.

Nesta marked it all.

“What’s the line to kill Beron look like?” she murmured to Feyre.

“Slightly shorter than the one for Azriel’s brother, should I pencil you in?”

“Please.”

Rhysand concluded his discussion with the males and accompanied Lucien back to their end of the table. While Lucien settled beside his mate and kissed her hand, Rhysand sighed, “We can only hope, for the Lady of Autumn’s sake, that Eris strikes soon.”

“Are you _sure_ I can’t kill Eris?” Cassian whispered.

“No killing Eris.”

“Light mangling?”

“ _No_ mangling.”

“Spoil sport.” Cassian smiled to Nesta, hiding the nature of their little chat in case any curious eyes fell upon them. Openly discussing the murder of a High Lord and his heir would probably not be appreciated.

 “Cassian, I hereby give you blanket permission to mangle anyone you think deserves it.” Nesta patted his arm, “I trust your judgement.”

“See? _She_ loves me.” Cassian stuck his tongue out at Rhys and tipped Nesta’s chin up for a kiss. As their guests noticed, a cheer went up.

Rhysand had barred the guests from bringing mating gifts into the pavilion, but still a few odds and ends made their way to where Cassian and Nesta sat. Helion got up to speak with someone and an illustrated book of _intimate_ tips and tricks just happened to tumble out of thin air into Cassian’s lap. When Thesan went to offer polite congratulations to the happy couple, he left in his wake a bottomless pouch. Nesta peeked inside and found a cabinet’s worth of luxurious soaps and bathing salts for her and Cassian to try. From Viviane’s sleeve a small bundle fell into Nesta’s lap- a bundle that contained fur-lined naughties from her favorite shop in Winter. Nesta accepted those with a shy grin.

Tarquin came over to formally raise the ban against Cassian entering the Summer Court (Nesta still did not know what building he destroyed) and when he shook Cassian’s hand, two small vials dropped from his other sleeve into Nesta’s hand. Eris went to Lucien with a sneer and whispered some unknown threat in his ear (in reality he simply asked Lucien to look angry for a few moments). He passed a card to Elain with his own attempt at civility in welcoming her to the Vanserra family. On his way back to an overly-pleased Beron, a pair of jeweled daggers found their way into Cassian’s lap.

He inspected them under the table before passing one to Nesta, “Okay, only mangling if Mor says he needs it.” Nesta slipped both daggers into Thesan’s pouch, where she was stashing most of their secret gifts.

“Lord Helion! It is wonderful to see you again!” Nephelle called out loudly as she made her way over to him.

“Sorry, she’s not the best at _subtly_ drawing focus.” Nephelle’ wife passed Cassian the dinner-gift sent by Drakon and Miryam- another bundle of lingerie.

“Lady Archeron?” All conversation in the tent died when Tamlin approached. Even Nephelle stood a bit straighter, on alert. Any pretense of speaking with Helion ended.

Tamlin, the male who’d forced her youngest sister from their home, then raised the family from poverty. The male who’d sent Feyre away to save her, then watched her die trying to save _him_. The one who neglected Feyre until Rhysand could no longer stomach it, then sold his soul to force her back to his side. The only fae still alive Nesta held responsible for Hybern’s raid on their home, the slaughter of her servants, and then nothing short of _torture_ in that damned Cauldron. So what if he claimed he didn’t know? His decisions put her on that path against her will.

He was a male of contradictions, a sin for every good deed, and Cassian took Nesta’s hand in his as her entire body stiffened.

He shifted uncomfortably and looked from Nesta to Elain, then back again, “I wronged you both, more times and in more ways than I can count. I would like to offer you something- I would like to offer _all_ Archeron sisters something.”

Tamlin pulled three gold coins from his pocket and placed one on the table in front of Elain, Nesta, and Feyre, “Those are marks of debt, from me to you. All you have to do is throw one into a fountain or even just a puddle and you may ask any favor of Spring you need. There are no fae tricks of phrase, no loopholes or strings attached. It is an apology long overdue, and given with sincerity.”

“Thank you, I accept this gift, and believe you _will_ earn my forgiveness.” Elain was the first to speak. Whatever she knew of the future, she clearly believed Tamlin was no threat.

“Thank you, Tamlin.” Feyre picked up the coin. She would store hers in a pocket of space. There would never be any need for it, but the gesture was what she appreciated- and the public way in which he made it.

Nesta stared at the coin for a long time, knowing full well all attention in the room was upon her, “I- I don’t know how I feel about you yet, High Lord.” She said truthfully, “You saved my family once, then your priestess tried to damn us and killed many of our friends. But even then, because of your treason and your crimes against my youngest sister, I now sit beside this male as his mate… I accept this gift in the spirit it was given, and I will try to forgive you, but I can guarantee nothing.”

Cassian was smiling at his mate with pride. He squeezed her hand beneath the table and sent a whisper of love through the bargain their vows created.

Tamlin nodded, “That is fair. Thank you, Lady Nesta. Happy Mating.” He nodded his head to both Nesta and Cassian before returning to his seat, his ears red at all the attention.

Cassian and Nesta continued to chat with any who came to see them, and Mor, Amren, Elain, and Feyre all managed to slip bundles of lingerie into Nesta’s lap. Thesan would never know how much embarrassment his little pouch saved, as it became the store-all for the gifts they were given. The true mating gifts would be given to Cassian and Nesta after they returned to Velaris, but at one point even the _priestess_ managed to pass some herbs over to the couple, the uses of which they could only begin to guess.

 “Has everyone now violated the ‘no-gifts’ rule?” Rhysand stood and looked around the room.

Silence fell, and Lord Devlon openly threw a parcel to Cassian, “Now we have, High Lord.” Several fae laughed. Nesta added the parcel to the hoard in Thesan’s bag.

“Good.” Rhysand picked up his glass and raised it, with everyone following suit (even Beron), “Cassian, it is my distinct _displeasure_ to know that you are now my brother not by choice, but by force.” Cassian laughed and flipped him a rude gesture. “Nesta, we haven’t known one another for long, but I am honored to have you and Elain as my sisters. May your mating be long, happy, and may the child _beside_ you mature before the Cauldron grants you more.” She laughed as that one earned _another_ rude gesture from Cassian.

“To Nesta and Cassian!” The guests mirrored Feyre’s call. She was not someone who made speeches as easily as Rhysand, and most of what she’d thought of he’d already used. Thief.

They all drank deeply from their wine glasses before Rhysand snapped his fingers and the table vanished in front of Cassian and Nesta, “Now, get out. You two have been stuck here long enough. And Cassian- you’d better hurry before she figures out how annoying you are.”

“I don’t know, Feyre mated with you even after she realized how obnoxious _you_ are.” Nesta said sweetly. Azriel and Mor stood to applaud her as the room erupted in both cheers and jeers.

She stood with Cassian and smiled brightly up at him. He lifted her in his arms and kissed her once more as he’d done on the dais. Rhysand clapped along with the others, laughing, as Cassian walked through the center of the room with Nesta’s lips still against his. She waved farewell to her sisters and friends, but did not break contact with her mate.

It was time to go to Cassian’s secret cabin.

* * *

 

**All comments loved and cherished, part 2 coming soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

** Part 2: The Cabin **

They flew for over an hour, heading north through the Night Court territory. It was lucky they’d been forced to move their mating from the mountain cabin- Cassian wasn’t entirely thrilled with Feyre and Rhys winnowing them to their honeymoon. This way, he and Nesta could make the trip alone.

Cassian breathed in the scent of Nesta’s hair as she buried her face in his neck. She was concentrating firmly on keeping lunch in her stomach where it belonged. His power wrapped around them both, shielding her from the wind, but still she could not stand to open her eyes.

An Illyrian mated to someone who _hated_ flying- the thought brought a smile to his lips.

At long last and not a moment too soon, Cassian gently squeezed Nesta to get her attention.

“I didn’t want to bring you here until it was finished, I wanted it to be a surprise for _everyone_ … But seeing as you are now my wife- and our other destination was vandalized- I suppose you can have a sneak preview.” They were in a remote part of the Court, far from any Illyrian clan territories. Far ahead, a particularly jagged snow-capped peak marked their destination.

Nesta grumbled into his neck, but she could feel something on the horizon, something they were approaching rapidly. Her instincts told her to turn around, warned her about a threat ahead. Between that sense of fear and danger she recognized the barrier magic that had kept wanderers far from Velaris. The magic of the city’s warding stones. Cassian flapped his wings harder and aimed straight for it.

“Three hundred years ago Azriel and I were flying back to Velaris from one of the northern villages. A blizzard hit, and Azriel decided to take shelter in a nearby Illyrian camp. I called him a coward and flew straight into the storm.”

Nesta murmured something into his neck that Cassian (correctly) interpreted as “Of course you did.”

“I thought I was flying for Velaris, but I couldn’t see anything. Eventually I got out of the worst of it and there were nothing but trees in every direction. I found clear ground to land- it was the frozen surface of a lake. Another storm was coming and I didn’t feel like getting _more_ lost, so I made a little lean-to against the side of a tree and waited it out.”

He laughed at the memory, “Somehow I ended up staying for three days. It was quiet, calm, it just _felt_ right. During those three days Azriel flew back to Velaris alone. He and Rhys waited for my dumb ass to find my way back, then Rhys sent out a beacon to help me.”

“Couldn’t he have just winnowed to you or something?” Nesta pushed her mouth away from his neck just far enough to speak. That feeling telling her to turn away was getting so strong it was nearly _tangible_.

“He tried that once, and… I was… It wasn’t-“

“He caught you in bed with a female?” Cassian hesitated and Nesta blinked, “More than _one_ female?”

“Maybe.” His voice was quiet.

Nesta laughed, “Cassian, that was before my grandmother’s-grandmother’s- _grandmother_ was alive. It’s alright.”

He grinned at last, relieved, “Well, after _that_ , Rhys instituted a ‘No Winnow’ rule, except in case of emergency. The beacon helped me find my way back home. A few years passed, I kept thinking about that place and how peaceful it was… So one week when everyone was off doing their own things, I found my way back there. I knew what angle I came into Velaris, I just flew until I saw a mountain that looked right. It took a couple of days, but I found it eventually. It was summer, the lake was melted, and… and it was still just as quiet and peaceful as the first time.”

“You built a cabin? By yourself?”

“I built _three_ cabins, nearly four. Bit by bit, as I could get away and haul supplies without it seeming suspicious. I could never stay for too long, and I had to learn a lot of magic from the smiths and lumber-carvers of Velaris, but I made a home. Then another for Rhys, one for Azriel, and most of Mor’s is done. I have a spot cleared for Amren’s… I suppose now though I will need another for Elain and Lucien…”

“Nuala and Cerridwen don’t get one? They might like to go on a vacation too.”

Cassian laughed, “Nuala and Cerridwen _hate_ water. Their mother drowned.”

“Oh, that’s awful!”

“It’s fine, it was before they were born.”

“Wait- what?”

Cassian didn’t elaborate, “The lake will be somewhere we can all enjoy together, with our families. The other cabin- the mountain one- is nice and all, but it isn’t large enough for everyone and their mates. _Especially_ not for anyone to have sex and be subtle about it.” He squeezed Nesta, “Hold on-“ the feeling of danger had reached almost unbearable levels.

Cassian tightened his grip on her and slammed into something thick. Nesta thought they were going to be crushed for one horrific moment, but their collective siphons flashed bright and they passed _through_ whatever barrier had been erected.

He slowed immediately and gave Nesta a gentle shake. Reluctantly, she turned her head.

They were gliding about ten feet in the air over dense pine trees that abruptly gave way to a great sapphire lake. A mountain rose sharply from the back half of the lake, and waterfalls poured down it. Cassian dipped lower over the dark blue water as he angled their path towards four large cabins (one with boards in place of windows) that were built out over the lake itself.

When Cassian said they were cabins, he was definitely selling them short.

Each was _at least_ the same size as the townhouse, likely larger.

Their size was mostly to accommodate Illyrian landing pads. There were large stone-tiled porches that stretched out over the lake, broad balconies on the second floor of each home that would fit two or three Illyrians taking off at once. Even the peaked rooves had a special outcropping for a landing pad. However many winged children each member of the Inner Circle had, the lake homes would afford them _plenty_ of space.

Curtained windows lined the lakefront side of the cabins, so many that Nesta couldn’t even see where the windows stopped and the patio doors began. Between each house were cleared spaces- a training field, sparring arena, a pebble-floored bonfire pit complete with wooden benches, and a field of sand, “That one I will finish last. It’s going to be an obstacle course… For children- whenever anyone wants them… There’s no hurry on finishing it. I figure it would put unwanted pressure on everyone if they saw it. Maybe no one wants kids, that’s fine too. There’s nothing that says anyone _has to_ have kids. It’d be nice, it would be _really_ nice, but it isn’t like anyone isn’t willing to compromise on-

“Cassian?” she interrupted him at last as they did a lap of the lake and drifted lower.

“Yes?”

“I intend to have children with you. It’s alright to plan for them.”

She felt that joy again, echoing through the bond created by their vows, “I want an army.”

Nesta flicked Cassian’s ribs through his tunic, “You’ll get what you get and you’ll be _happy_.”

“Yes wife, and thank you in advance.” Cassian kissed Nesta’s forehead and began to spiral down to the patio of the central house.

When they landed, Nesta took a few shaky steps just to get her feet beneath her again. She walked to a gap in the handrail that led to stairs down into the water. For a moment she simply looked out across the lake, savoring that same peace Cassian had described. It was a magic all its own- something soft and warm that Nesta recognized.

The magic of the Cauldron flowed through the ground, through the lake itself. If she held the Cauldron’s power of Death, this lake was Life. It was a reflection of her power that soothed and calmed. She had a sneaking suspicion the storm that got her mate so turned around was a bit more than natural weather phenomenon. It was a gift, just as Rhysand’s visions of the human Feyre was a gift.

Nothing sinister lay in the magic, and Nesta trusted her instincts were correct.

“It’s beautiful. I mean it.”

“It won’t be finished for a while yet,” Cassian stretched his arms and came to stand by her. He looked to the fourth cabin, “I thought I was nearly there, but I guess not. Still, this is the first thing I’ve ever _created_. It feels good knowing I did all of this, and I can’t wait to see their faces when they all come here for the first time. Those asses guess everything I do before I even think to do it, but they’ll never see this coming… Except for Elain, but I already cornered her and told her to keep anything she _might_ see to herself. She was very confused.”

The joy in Cassian’s eyes was contagious. Nesta stood on her toes to kiss him.

“What was that barrier I felt when we got close?” She wasn’t going to tell him what she felt in that lake- it was for them, and no others. The wall was not necessary, the Cauldron wanted them to have this place.

“Just in case Velaris ever needed to be expanded, the High Lord who fortified the walls also extended the wards to a nearby quarry. I might have _borrowed_ some stones over the years- only when my hands weren’t too full. One every few hundred feet does the trick. The ring is half a mile from the lake in all directions- even up into the mountain. When I do reveal this place, one of the things I’m going to ask Rhys to do is help reinforce everything. I want this place _safe_.” Rhys’ mother and sister were taken from them all- Cassian wouldn’t allow anything like that to happen ever again.

He looked back at Nesta to find her simply smiling at him, “What?”

“I’m proud of you.” She wrapped her arms around him, “Whatever you need me to do, I’ll help you finish this. Hard labor included.”

Cassian laughed, “Maybe next visit?”

“Next visit.” Nesta stood on the tips of her toes and kissed Cassian’s lips.

They held one another and breathed in the scent of pine and mountain air, enjoying the distant rumbling of the waterfall. If Nesta let her mind go, she could see the shadows of children racing between homes, Illyrian’s just barely able to fly using their little wings to glide from the balconies into the lake. The laughter of the Inner Circle as they simply relaxed seemed to echo in the sound of the waterfall.

Nesta had never been jealous of Elain’s gift- but she imagined the same future as Cassian so clearly that she almost wondered if she’d somehow managed to steal a bit of Seer magic from the Cauldron as well- or if the magic that filled the lake had granted her a snapshot of what was to come.

It was the same future that drove Cassian. Ever since he’d met that infuriating human he’d imagined her here, despite how many times he told himself it would never happen. Even through the fire and rage between them then, before she’d let him into her heart, he still knew that one day they would be here together.

“Wife.” Cassian said the word softly as he held Nesta, “My wife… My mate.” The words wrapped around his soul and warmed his very being.

He’d had relationships with females, beautiful females he sometimes even loved, but deep down he still felt like nothing more than a worthless, fatherless wretch. He’d hung around his poor mother’s neck like a noose until she was choked by the shame of him and his bastard-blood. That ice sat beside his heart for centuries. It made killing easy.

When Rhys went Under the Mountain, his bruised soul bled anew. For fifty years he’d lived with the screams of the Illyrians howling in his blood, unable to fight to protect his people or his High Lord. Every instinct raged at him to _do something_ , save his people- but Rhys’ shield made that impossible.

It broke something inside him, something he thought could never be healed.

… and then he met an arrogant, vicious, cruel, angry human woman who somehow managed to make him think about her even when he was _gladly_ on the other end of the continent. He realized in the heart of her own fire was someone sensitive, kind, and deeply caring. A woman- then a female- who was slowly burning to death in the center of that raging tempest.

When he made her smile, she grew stronger. When he made her hope, the flames died down and something in _him_ remembered to hope as well.

Bit by bit, Cassian drew Nesta from her fortress. Bit by bit, she found his heart and soothed the ache inside. Cassian knew the next time he killed, his hand would not be guided by ice and wrath; it would be guided by her voice in his heart, by every bit of passion she inspired, and with his only thought of the world he would build for her and their children.

“Nesta Archeron,” he turned her so that those blue eyes met his, “you are the most infuriating, stubborn, and sharp-tongued woman _or_ fae I have ever known. You are also the smartest, bravest, and warmest. I swear to you- today and forever- that I will do everything in my power to be worthy of your grace, your smile, and your heart. I vow to _always_ be a pain in your ass-“ Nesta laughed at the old pledge and a tear slipped down her cheek, “-but I will never, _ever_ cause you pain by word, deed, or thought. I swear my fealty to you above all others- except Rhys and Feyre, it’s a High Lord thing, I can’t help it- and I swear to you that you will never know a single _moment_ when these vows- and all those I’ve sworn today- are not held sacred in my heart.”

She took his hand in hers and held it over her heart, “Cassian Archeron, _Lord of Bloodshed_ , I lived my life judging others unworthy of me. Even when we were destitute, I thought I was worth more than those around me… and then one day Feyre came home High Fae, strong, powerful, and with her she brought this utterly ridiculous, puffed-up warrior. Somehow, that aggravating creature made me want to be more than I was. I hated him, because for the first time in my life _I_ was not worthy of _him_.”

Nesta looked up into Cassian’s eyes once more, “I, Nesta Archeron, vow to do my best to be worthy of your generosity, love, kindness, and bravery. I will love you every day of my life. I will be your friend, your partner, your wife, and your mate, no matter what comes.” Her words were awkward and not as practiced as his, but she meant them with everything in her heart. “I have done nothing in my life to deserve the love, respect, and faith of such a wonderful male, but I will work all my days to change that. I _also_ vow to always be a pain in your ass, but I will never, _ever_ cause you pain by word, deed, or thought. I swear my fealty to you above all others- screw Feyre and Rhys- and I swear to you that you will never know a single _moment_ where these vows- and all those I’ve sworn today- are not held sacred in my heart.”

They sealed their private vows with a kiss that took the breath from Nesta and Cassian both. His scent washed over her, helped along by a breeze off the lake. Cassian held his wife’s hand still, but he pulled her body tighter to his. Her lips parted, inviting his tongue inside.

She pulled her hand from his and grabbed his tunic, yanking him back from the rail and then down onto the cool tile.

He broke the kiss, panting, “Here? You want this _here_? There’s a bed inside-“

Nesta pulled Thesan’s pouch off the loop in Cassian’s belt and threw it aside, then busied herself relieving him of his shirt. The mating bond was making her blood boil again and there was no reason to deny it another _second_ , “I want you to look at this spot for the rest of your life and remember what it sounded like when my screams echoed back off that mountain.”

He smiled broadly and pulled the shirt off, “I won’t argue with that.”

Nesta let him push her back until she was laying on the tile. He claimed her mouth hard and fast. She pulled at the strips of fabric that made up the skirt of her gown until Cassian grabbed the underskirt and pushed _that_ up over her stomach.

He pulled back to look at her and laughed, “You’ve been wearing those-“

“-for nearly three hours, yes.”

What she was wearing couldn’t even properly be called ‘panties’. It was two thin strips of lace- one that wrapped around her waist, and the other that ran between her legs. That strip was split in half from the top of her folds all the way around to the back. A string of pearls filled the center between those two halves, warm and already wet.

“I remember you thought I’d like them. We never got around to testing that theory.”

Cassian’s eyes were glazed as he smiled, “Well, we should _certainly_ find out.”

Nesta parted her legs for him as she reclined on her elbows. Cassian grabbed her knees and pushed them further apart, then bit the inside of them as he lowered himself onto the deck. Her toes curled as he inched closer. He ran his tongue and teeth along the inside of her leg, kissing and nipping at thin skin even as he kept his eyes on her. A wicked promise danced in those eyes.

Cassian’s cheek pressed against her center as he sucked on the inside of her thigh. Nesta arched her back and whimpered. She _needed_ him. The mating bond was a fire in her veins, screaming at _both_ of them to join.

Cassian turned his head, nipped gently at the folds of her sex, then pulled back. He moved to her other thigh, then began to slowly kiss his way out to her knee. Nesta whimpered and he immediately edged his shoulder under the other leg so that he could reach around and rest a hand on her stomach, pinning her hips firmly in place. Nesta resisted giving his wing a light shove with her foot.

At her knee he reversed his path, once more sliding closer and closer to his mate’s center. It was almost impossible for him to resist simply latching his mouth around Nesta’s sex. Something primal in him hungered for her taste without sense or reason. He came closer and closer- then again only nipped at her folds before sliding away.

The hand pinning Nesta’s hips pushed down harder as his other grabbed the band of her panties and began to slowly rock them up. The pearls parted her and raked across her knot. She arched her back and let out a low moan at the feeling. Cassian’s mouth found those folds of sensitive flesh parted by the pearls and he sucked one into his mouth, tasting her. He kept rocking the pearls across her with a torturously slow rhythm. Nesta tried to reach down to push his head over, force his tongue _into_ her, but Cassian stopped her with only a raised eyebrow.

She was propped up, watching him work while she pinched and twisted at her nipples through the gauze of her dress. Cassian slipped two fingers around the line of pearls and pushed his hand into Nesta’s hot, slick depths. She cried out and tried to roll her hips against him, but he held her firm.

“Do you know what I want to do to you right now?” His voice was hoarse. He pulled his fingers out until just the tips were inside her, “I want to wrap my arms around your shoulders and slam my cock into you as hard as I can.” While he spoke, he pushed those fingers back into her- firm but slow. “I bet you would come just from that, you’re so wet.” He moaned and pumped his fingers slowly, coaxing gasps and cries from Nesta.

“I want you on top of me, looking down. I want to feel you riding me, I want to feel how _deep_ I fit.” He rocked the pearls against her knot. Nesta was panting, her hips straining to roll into his touch, “I want my fingers in you even while you ride me, stretching you until you feel me with every last ridge. I want to-“

“Then do it,” Nesta whimpered, “stop teasing me and _do it_.”

“Do what? I want to hear you say it.”

“ _Fuck me_ ,” she gasped. “Wrap your arms around my shoulders and slam your cock deep inside me. While I bite and lick your wings, pound me as hard and fast as you can. I want to hear you moaning and shouting my name. I want to hear your voice echoing across the lake. I want to hear your body crashing into mine-” Nesta let out a soft cry as Cassian changed the pace of his hand and bit the inside of her thigh just hard enough to interrupt the rising wave of pleasure.

“What else?” his voice was deep, guttural.

“I want-“ Nesta cursed, “I want to shove you back onto the stone and suck your cock until you come in my mouth.” She gasped and Cassian smiled, “I want to taste you- I want to taste every inch of you! I want you like this- moaning on the floor while I torture and torment you! I want to grab your cock and watch the head part me, watch it fill me as I slide down onto it! I want your mouth on my breasts, biting and sucking at them while I ride you! I want those fingers stretching me as far as they can! I want to come so hard the world stops, and when I come back to my senses I want you to be inside me still, moving hard and fast!”

As she spoke- words she knew would make Cassian _painfully_ hard- Nesta continued to struggle against his fingers and the rhythmic tug of those pearls across her knot. Every time he felt her nearing that glorious edge, he would nip at her to distract her body while he changed his pace. He was keeping her on the edge- and as much as she loved it, Nesta _needed_ release.

Cassian slid his fingers out of her and released the band of her panties. He studied her juices on his hand, “I wonder how your taste will change after we’re mated.” He slid those fingers into his mouth and licked them clean, savoring the taste of his mate.

He tried to lower himself once more- to enter her with his tongue and feast until he was tired of that taste- not that he’d come even close to that point in the _months_ they’d been together. He was her mate- it was a primal hunger that would _never_ change. Cassian opened his mouth and lowered himself to her, but Nesta put a hand over her opening, blocking him.

“My turn,” she got to her knees, moaning as the pearls shifted against her knot.

Cassian kissed her once more before he stood and let her yank at his linen pants, pulling them down. He kicked off his shoes and threw the pants aside.

Her wedding dress was hanging off one shoulder as Nesta looked up at him and began to stroke his cock. Cassian’s mouth twitched into a grin. She moved her hand to the head of his shaft, her thumb tracing the letters of her name slowly into the sensitive skin, reminding him who precisely that cock belonged to.

“ _Nesta,_ ” Cassian sighed when she leaned forward and licked along his shaft. She looked up at him while she sucked at his skin and traced her name again.

“ _Shit!”_ his hips bucked when she suddenly released his shaft and sucked one of his balls into her mouth. When she began to rub it with her tongue, she could feel his cock against her cheek throb. Cassian rested a hand against her head and another on the back of her hand as it pumped his shaft. He was not pulling her away or pushing her farther- he simply wanted to touch her.

When Nesta was finished playing with his balls, she at last took his cock in her mouth.

Once, Cassian thought Nesta might only want sex, and would choose to never be mated with him. That night- that incredible night just four months ago- he’d stared down at her with raging intensity while she took him in her mouth. He’d memorized every aspect of her then (and the two nights that followed): the way her cheeks hollowed as she pulled back, the shine of her lips, and the way her then-exposed breasts swayed as she moved. He’d memorized Nesta’s taste, the way she whimpered when he teased her, the way she screamed when he used his tongue to spell his name against her knot, the feeling of her folds around his cock and fingers- everything down to the desperate little squeaks she made when she was fighting back an orgasm.

Now, every time Nesta rocked forward and shifted those pearls against her knot, she let out a moan that vibrated against his length. Cassian’s wings strained as he watched his bride, and he began to stroke her hair. He found the pins holding her braided crown in place and removed them one by one, panting as Nesta began to suck him harder. He combed her hair with his fingers until it fell in a curtain around her face.

He wanted her scent to fill the world even more than it already did. He wanted to be covered in it- to be covered _by_ it.

When Nesta’s hair was free, Cassian pulled her away from his cock. “Stand up.”

She obeyed, and Cassian pulled down the only remaining strap of her wedding dress, then let the whole thing fall to the tiled floor. Her panties were only the start of it- an almost nonexistent bra covered her breasts with an impossibly thin layer of sick- what his knuckles had brushed against in the bridal tent. Cassian licked his lips as he reached up to wrap his hand around the curve of her breast, rolling her nipple between two fingers as he did.

Nesta arched into the touch and let out a soft cry when Cassian’s mouth lowered gently to her other breast and gently kissed it. His bride grabbed his head and pulled him into a deep, hard kiss. Nesta ground her pelvis against his, making both moan as the pearls rubbed against her knot and his cock.

Cassian took the hint.

He unclasped her bra and she flung it aside, then removed her slippers and panties at long last. Wholly naked, Nesta claimed Cassian’s mouth once more and jumped into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his hips and he knelt, lowering her back to the tiles as they kissed.

Before he tipped her onto her back, she shoved him lightly and Cassian adjusted his wings so that _he_ was the one laying on the patio with her on top- just as he’d wanted. She lined his cock up with her entrance and slid down onto it.

Cassian was right with his teasing- she very nearly came from the feeling of his cock inside her at long, long last. He filled her wholly and completely, and as though the mating bond sensed its activation was imminent her body took him in a single hard push. Nesta rested her hands on his new tattoos, the mark of their mating vows, and leaned down to kiss her husband.

It was a simple kiss, not hard or hungry, and when she sat up to look into his eyes, Cassian was smiling.

“Husband.” Nesta rose up on his cock and arched an eyebrow.

“ _Wife_.” He pulled her back down and she gasped at the sensation.

The fit was so perfect- Nesta could only smile as she rode him faster. It was not a time to take it slow and build towards some tantric release- they’d done that enough. This was their mating, and it was only the beginning of something that was _conservatively_ described as a ‘frenzy’.

“Wing.” Nesta commanded. Cassian liked his female to suck the hard ridge of his wing when he came.

He shook his head, panting, “No. I want to hear you. I don’t want-“ she squeezed her walls around him with a wicked grin and he very nearly erupted, “I don’t want your mouth busy.” Cassian pulled at Nesta’s arms, bringing her down so that he could bite and suck at her nipples as she moved.

Nesta cried out, that first sharp sound indeed echoing back to them across the lake. Cassian smiled and wrapped both arms under hers, then reached up to grasp her shoulders, “Hold on.”

He shifted his feet, bending his knees and bracing himself against the tile.

A scream ripped through Nesta when Cassian tightened his grip and pulled her down even as he slammed his hips up into her. Her legs spasmed at the incredible burst of pleasure and she lost her balance on the tile. Without her knees to brace her, her knot ground against his pelvis unchecked. Cassian did not miss a single stride as Nesta slipped. He pushed into her fast and hard, and gave up trying to suck her breast as he gave her the very passion and force she’d asked for earlier.

The sound of their bodies colliding filled the air around them, interspersed with Nesta’s gasping cries and Cassian’s desperate moans. Both echoed across the lake.

“I’m almost there-“ Nesta gasped. She fought Cassian’s grip on her shoulders and he let her sit up just far enough so that they could look into one another’s eyes. She wanted to see him when he came, when they _both_ came and the mating bond at last slammed into place.

Cassian could only nod. He picked up his pace just a bit more as his body began to strain against the overwhelming pleasure Nesta gave him.

Their scent filled the air in a fresh wave that slid over and around itself. Cinnamon and sandalwood, sandalwood and cinnamon. Before Nesta’s walls began to tighten around him, warning of her impending release, those scents were wholly indistinguishable from one another. No longer separate, but something joined.

Even as she tensed, Nesta had a sense of that epicenter she and Cassian had flirted with for so long. She could _feel_ the heart of it waiting for her- and Cassian waiting in the center of it. Where she would normally stop at the threshold, Nesta threw herself forward into his waiting soul.

Nesta screamed as her body filled with a blinding, aching fire where they joined. An impossibly strong wave of pleasure swept over both as Nesta’s release hit. Clamped down around his cock as he came and filled her with his seed. They held one another’s gaze only through the first wave before a second- this one triggered by that mating bond- made Nesta throw her head back and let out a howl of pleasure. She came again, _harder_ as that new orgasm exploded around the first and Cassian’s hips continued to buck.

He pushed himself off the patio and tipped Nesta down on the tile in his place. Her hands went immediate to his ribs, to the tattoos that marked his vows. He’d barely _finished_ coming when he began to thrust into her again. Her body was trembling after the unprecedented strength of her releases, but the mating bond had taken a firm hold of both. Cassian held her breasts- full and sensitive- and slid his wing around to her waiting mouth. She sucked at the base of a talon as her body stopped shaking and pressure began to build again.

He held her hips tightly as he pushed into her, a little slower than before. A large hand played with her knot, stroking his name across it. That pattern he’d discovered their first night together- the one that made her scream. Sweat dripped from Cassian’s brow onto her chest, now almost free of the paint Feyre and Elain had sunk into her skin.

“Stop,” Nest gasped. As always, he obeyed. She pushed him back and crawled from beneath him, moaning as he slid from her. She only moved far enough to flip over so that her back was to him. Nesta braced her arms and looked back.

He didn’t waste a moment. Cassian grabbed her hips and thrust into her. She gasped and cried out as his cock raked through her, pressing hard into the inner bundle of nerves that overrode all others. Cassian’s wing slid around to her front and she happily pounced on it- sucking at the base of a talon as her hand rubbed a thin spot on the membrane. One of his hands went to her knot to swirl and play with the hard bundle while the other rested on _her_ tattoo, something she knew Cassian would enjoy when she changed their position.

He placed his hand in the center of those Illyrian wings forever etched on her skin. Every vow, every last bit of their love and faith in each other was represented there, and for him it also was a sign of the healing joy she’d brought him- a gift from his mate more precious than anything else.

He needed to feel as much of her as possible.

Cassian hauled Nesta up and pressed her back against his chest while he continued to thrust. She gasped as the position pushed him harder against that overwhelmingly pleasurable spot his fingers were always so deft at finding. His hand continued to play between her legs, and the other wrapped around to hold her breast, pinning her against him.

“I love you,” Cassian brushed his lips against her ear.

“I love you too, mate.” She put one hand over his upon her breast and rested the other on Cassian’s hips.

Nesta held her husband as he thrust into her. Kneeling as they were, he couldn’t quite go as deep, but it didn’t matter. Her breath came in shuddering gasps as her back arched and her hips began to roll with the swirling of his fingers around her knot.

She threw her head back onto his shoulder, and Cassian’s mouth found hers in moments. His tongue parted her lips and they shared a kiss before they were forced to part, gasping for air. Still, Cassian pressed his forehead to hers. Their breath mingled and moans echoed all around them.

Her back arched harder against him and Cassian picked up both speed and force. Sweat was dripping from both of them, but still he moved inside her as hard and deep as he could. Nesta released his hip and twisted her arm higher, towards a ridge where the membrane of his wing met hard bone and connected to his back. She pressed her finger against it, rubbing as hard as fast as his hand on her knot.

“ _Nesta!_ ” Cassian shouted her name as he came.

He hooked two fingers inside her quickly, one on either side of his shaft. His thumb pressed hard against her knot as he began to pump those fingers into her in time with the thrusts of his cock.

Her mate’s cries of pleasure ringing in her ears and the shaking of his body as he filled her sent her hurtling over the edge once more.

“ _Don’t stop! Cassian, I’m-”_ He pushed a third finger into her, this one devoted entirely to fierce stimulation of her deepest nerves. The extra force made sure she held nothing back.

Her first scream was wrenched from her as that hard pleasure turned to liquid. Her hips thrashed against his cock, the movement almost entirely involuntary as pleasure and ecstasy sent her to the brink of what consciousness would allow. Her body turned into something molten and burning, she shuddered around those fingers that kept moving even as he shouted again and stilled his hips. Her limbs shook, at once too light and too lose, and that hand rolling her nipple between two fingers only made the sensation that much stronger.

With one final cry the tightness left her body and Nesta fell limp in Cassian’s arms, shaking and whimpering. He held her for a moment as both gasped for air. The three fingers inside her slowly eased out- drawing a hiss of discomfort. Nesta groaned as he slipped his cock from her, leaving her cold and empty. She slumped back against his chest. Cassian sat down and pulled her into his lap. His wings hung on the stone deck, as limp and exhausted as the rest of him.

“I love you.” He said again, barely whispering this time. Cassian’s lips brushed against her sweat-slick neck as he wrapped both arms around her.

“I love you too.” She nuzzled his shoulder.

It was never just words between them- Nesta loved Cassian in a way she’d never known was possible. She loved him so greatly and so fiercely that it hurt. She loved him so much she wanted nothing more than for time to stop so that she would have an eternity like this- with her mate holding her close. An ageless, undying forever with Cassian- and yet at the same time she wanted a hundred years to pass, a thousand, a _million_ , she wanted time to move around them so that everyone could see them like this. Not naked and exhausted, but wholly content in one another’s arms.

For the first time she also felt something else, something deeper than even her pure and undiminishing love for Cassian- she felt _his_ love for _her_. She felt the love of not just one person, but of two people for one another. There was no wondering if he felt it too, no uncertainty, no worry about the future, no fear that the feeling would fade. She wasn’t just Nesta anymore- she was Nesta with a piece of Cassian in her heart, just as he was Cassian with a sliver of Nesta.

She thought Rhys and Feyre were so immature, putting their love on display to rub in everyone’s faces. She thought Elain and Lucien were infatuated children- mated or no. But now Nesta understood, for the first time, what she had missed out on her entire life.

Feyre and Rhys weren’t obnoxious in their love, Elain and Lucien were not untamed- they were one single being. Feyre was still Feyre and Elain was still Elain, but they also embodied the undying love of their mates. It was something greater than any individual, and something infinitely more precious.

Cassian’s heart pounding against her back was a war-drum, the beat of which echoed in Nesta’s veins. She felt it in the siphon on her ring, and in those siphons hidden now on Cassian. Their mating bond was a challenge who any who would dare to drive them apart- a promise of wrath and ruin.

Their love was a new kind of beast to be unleashed upon their enemies in the protection of one another.

“Easy, my love,” Cassian whispered, “that’s just part of the frenzy. Let’s not destroy any villages, alright?”

His voice soothed whatever had burned inside her, and Nesta relaxed once more, “That’s the aggression everyone was afraid of?”

“It is.”

“How did Feyre and Rhys not level Prythian?” They were so much more powerful than she was, and that determined anger flared up so quickly.

Cassian laughed and held Nesta tighter as her heartbeat gradually slowed, “She ripped Spring apart and then we had a _teeny_ war you might have heard about. It took the edge off.”

“Oh, that little thing.” Nesta rested her cheek against Cassian’s chest, “Well, we don’t have anyone to kill _right now_.”

“So, what do we do with all this extra energy?” His mind was back on mating.

“I want you to give me a tour of our cabin.” Nesta tipped her head up and kissed Cassian’s cheek.

When she scooted off his lap and stood, he actually looked disappointed, “You don’t- you don’t want to go for a swim to clean up? I mean, you’ve taken a bit since we landed. By that I mean-”

“Yes, you did a _very_ good job filling your mate, congratulations.” Nesta offered him a hand and helped Cassian stand. “ _Later_ I promise to throw you into that lake and ride you as long as you can swim, but right now I want a tour.”

Cassian pointed to their left, “That’s the cabin,” he pointed to the right, “that’s the lake,” he pointed down, “and this is the patio. Alright, to the-“

“-interior of the cabin? Sounds wonderful.” Nesta flicked his chest with a sly grin.

He offered his mate an arm, pouting. His body was as exhausted as hers- but it wouldn’t be long before he was hard again. He wanted to hold her, play with her until she was ready to continue. What they were capable of during the frenzy- the sheer stamina that marked it- was something Cassian fully intended to put to the test.

Nesta did as well.

Cassian trudged up the patio steps towards that wall of windows. He pulled the latch on a glass door hidden at the center and bowed, “My love, welcome to our home. Well, _vacation_ home.”

Nesta found the seam in the long curtains that blocked the interior from view and pushed them aside, revealing the rest of Cassian’s hard work.

The main floor was almost entirely open, with furniture marking the change between sitting room, dining room, and kitchen. Mahogany floors were covered in thick blue rugs that cushioned Nesta’s steps as she walked in. The walls were neatly painted a simple stormcloud gray and free of adornments or embellishments.

There was no foyer, no receiving room or formal study- this lake was for Cassian’s family- the Inner Circle included. There was nothing stately or proper about it. The size was _certainly_ grand, but it still felt simple and homey.

“It’s beautiful… Tell me about the entryway?” Nesta turned as Cassian walked in behind her and closed the door.

He arched an eyebrow, “Um, well, there’s a door that goes outside. The bookshelves have-“ he pointed to a long, low shelf that marked the edge of the ‘sitting room’.

Nesta cut him off, “Tell me about the _entryway_.”

“Door. Rug. Curtain.” Cassian pointed at each in turn, confused. “The rugs are one of the few things in this cabin that I didn’t make myself. I got a bigger version of the bag Thesan gave us and-“

“Are the rugs very soft?” Nesta crossed her arms.

“Yes. I wanted something that would be nice and warm in the winter.” Cassian mirrored her and stared his wife down, trying to figure out her game.

“And what about that?” Nesta pointed to a half-wall on his left.

“That’s just to divide it from the- _shit!_ ” Cassian’s hips bucked. Nesta had taken advantage of his distraction, dropped to her knees, and took his cock in her mouth.

Cassian’s wings flared as Nesta held his hips and bobbed her head along his length. She took him as deep into her throat as she could stand- deeper than she’d ever tried. Her mate’s toes curled in the rug, gripping it as if he might fall off the face of the earth itself. With one hand he held Nesta’s hair back- until she reached up to cover it with her own and encouraged him to push.

Nesta hummed as Cassian brought a second hand up to hold her head, sending vibrations deep into his shaft. He held her head in his hands, just as she wanted, and pushed into her waiting mouth. It wasn’t long before he could feel his body tightening.

_Stop_.

The command came down their mating bond for the first time, and Cassian laughed. He released Nesta’s head and she slid him from her mouth. A few quick licks along she shaft and head of his cock cleaned up most of her saliva.

Nesta stood, panting, “The rugs are _definitely_ comfortable.”

“Maybe we should be sure-“ Cassian reached for her but Nesta jumped back, out of the way.

“You were saying something about book shelves?” she asked innocently, despite the flush in her cheeks.

“Demon-witch.” Cassian hissed as he followed her into the house further.

“Your vows were before mine, _you_ married _me_ first. Therefore you only have yourself to blame.” She looked back to wink.

The long bookshelf that marked the sitting room came up to Nesta’s abdomen, dividing the space without blocking line of sight to anywhere else on the main floor. Only half the bookcase was full. When Cassian furnished his cabin centuries ago he had no way of knowing what his wife might like to read. To be honest, he never truly expected to wed at all, let alone find a _mate_. Most of the books on the shelf were filled with spells to help with construction, plumbing, and housekeeping. There were books on lumber, making cabinets, tiling floors- even a section devoted to architecture theory and structural design. Everything he would need to make homes and furnish them was contained in those books- not that he consulted them much after the second cabin was finished.

“So, the bookshelves, did you make them yourself or-“

Nesta yelped as Cassian grabbed her from behind and lifted her half-onto the bookshelf. Her arms wheeled until she managed to grab the top of the low, plush sofa on the far side. Cassian went to his knees behind her and wrapped both arms beneath her legs, throwing them over his shoulders.

Before she could get a word out, Cassian’s mouth was on her and his tongue was inside her. He held her up just enough so that the edge of the shelf would not dig into her pelvis, parted her folds with both index fingers, and slowly rubbed them up and down with her knot pinched between.

Her taste had certainly changed- but if anything Cassian loved it _more_. There was nothing methodical or practiced with his mouth on her. She’d brought him to the brink with her own mouth, then left him without any release. This was more Illyrian than Cassian. It was hungry, insistent, and forceful. Nesta’s hips bucked against his mouth and her legs wrapped around his head as best they could, holding him against her.

She cried out, groaned as his fingers pinched her knot, and tried to look back at her mate- but to no avail. The way she’d been tossed over the shelf made it impossible to see more than Cassian’s wings and the very top of his head over her rear. He sucked at her folds, bit at her, and pushed his tongue in deeper than she thought possible.

When Nesta was shaking and her moans had turned into shouts- when he heard that squeak that said she was close to orgasm- Cassian abruptly pulled back, pushed her legs away, and stood. He lifted Nesta and set her back down exactly where she’d been when he pounced. She turned to him, growling.

“Yes, I did make the bookshelves myself.” He said coolly, “When I decided what I was going to do out here, I cleared a sizeable portion of the forest and planted several hardwood groves. I’ve got a woodcutter cabin out there, complete with a workroom. Anything wooden in this house I built or cut out there, then brought here. The oak and mahogany trees have grown _very_ well. Of course, the planting stones from Day helped a lot. Over the last three hundred years I think I’ve re-planted those groves twice at least.”

He looked at Nesta innocently, “What room did you want to see next? The bedroom?”

“No.” She nodded behind him to a large dining room table, “How did you get that in?” It was bigger than the door.

“I built it in here.” Cassian led her across the main floor to the table. It was sitting on _three_ massive rugs. Twelve chairs (all made to accommodate wings) were spaced along its length.

“How long did _this_ take you?” The top of the table was a patchwork of various sizes and at least six different shades of stain. It was a massive puzzle- yet when Nesta ran her hand along it, she felt no seams between the pieces. It was _perfect_.

“Two years, but that meant about five weeks of work. Want to fuck on it?”

“Yes.”

She yanked two chairs out of the way and hopped onto the table with her legs hanging over the side.

Cassian wasted absolutely no time- Nesta laid down and grabbed the edge, holding on for dear life. She raised her legs and waited for Cassian to get into position between them before throwing both over his shoulders.

With a single shove, unguided, Cassian entered his wife. Nesta cried out and tightened her grip on the edge of the table. Her husband leaned over, bending her legs and in turn forcing her hips up until his cock head raked against her walls. The added force made his wife release the table to grab her own legs- bending them even further for him.

Cassian held her hips and slammed into her, groaning just as desperately as she was. The sounds of their bodies colliding was so much louder inside than it was outside- but that only heightened the excitement for Nesta.

The Lord of Bloodshed- reduced to a rutting, quivering, sweating, and grunting animal by Death itself. It was poetic. The slap of his flesh against hers woke something primal in Nesta- something wholly fae put there by the Cauldron.

“ _Harder_ ,” she growled at Cassian.

He obeyed. The force of his thrusts pushed Nesta further onto the table. Cassian began to yank her back while he moved.

_“Harder!_ ”

Cassian pushed Nesta onto the table wholly and crawled onto it after her. He let gravity do most of the work as he thrust _down_ instead of forward. Nesta’s back arched and she shouted in pleasure. Cassian leaned over her as his hips worked in broad, sweeping thrusts. He used his torso to pin Nesta’s legs as far as they were willing to go, freeing her hands to rest along the tattoos on his ribs.

She looked into his eyes with as much lust as he felt for her. Angled as they were, he couldn’t pound into her while she sucked his wing, but she could do the next best thing.

Nesta reached between her and Cassian’s hips, rested her hand over her entrance, and let her fingers part around his cock. As he thrust, lubricant built up on her hand- a thick, creamy fluid that meant her release was near. Once her hand was wet, she brought it around Cassian’s head and grabbed a ridge of wing in her firm grasp.

“ _Shit, Cauldron yes! Don’t stop!_ ” Cassian threw his head back as her hand pumped at the base of his wing. Her moisture on him set his wings throbbing like he’d never felt before. It was better than her mouth- it was better than just about anything (excluding what was happening at their hips).

Cassian took three fingers and shoved them into Nesta unceremoniously, once again resting them alongside his cock as it thrust. He pulled up on her entrance with those three fingers, thrusting even as he pushed down hard on her knot with this thumb.

Her eyes opened wide and she screamed as he bent the tips of those fingers to dig into her inner walls. Nesta’s hips began to buck wildly of their own volition, her eyes rolled up into her head, and everything in her being tensed. Even as Cassian kept thrusting, even as his own release crashed into him, she didn’t move, didn’t relax, and only gasped for air.

Cassian turned his head and bit her thigh as he slammed into her harder than before.

Nesta had been pinned on the edge. That threw her over.

She screamed as her body lost control. Her muscles shook, her walls clamped down on Cassian’s cock so hard that he could hardly move it- not that he wanted to as it erupted inside her, filling her once again with his heat. The force of her orgasm, the tightness of her walls, and the continued pull of his fingers gave the juices of her own release their path out and they flooded across his hands. The air filled with the scent of her. Cassian pulled his fingers out of Nesta and licked his hand, that primal side of him desperate for a taste.

Nesta continued to cry out and thrash as her body weakened and Cassian resumed the thrusts of his hips- this time a bit slower and more drawn out. He spilled himself in her, and only when he’d gone soft did he pull out reluctantly and let her come down from her prolonged orgasm.

Cassian staggered back off the table and slumped to the floor. He pulled her with him for a moment, then left her legs to hang limp over the edge of the table as she shook. At some point she’d lost consciousness, the wave of pleasure had slammed over her so hard. Her hands were weak and trembling, her legs felt heavy and useless. Cassian watched her entrance as both of their releases dripped from inside.

“Are you still alive?” he asked after a few minutes.

Nesta slowly flashed him a thumbs up, “When I can move again, I’ll let you know.” Her voice was raw.

“That was- that was _incredible_.”

With great effort, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, hissing at her oversensitive core. “It’s a very nice table. Let’s do a tour of the bathroom next and see what all is in that bag from-“something akin to malice flickered in Cassian’s eyes at even the _possibility_ of another male’s name. Feyre had warned her about that- how weird the males got. On the patio their mating bond was so new that hostility hadn’t appeared yet, but now it was firmly in command, “We’ll just see what all is in that bag. Preferably during a very long and relatively chaste bath.”

Cassian’s eyes softened, “That sounds like just about all I can handle right now.” He laughed and stood on shaking legs, “I’ll carry you in there and leave you to fill the tub. You deserve a rest.”

“In about half an hour, I won’t want to rest anymore.” She let Cassian scoop her up off the table. He kissed her- nothing hungry or devouring- but a soft kiss, a gentle kiss of one lover to another, of a husband to his wife.

His heartbeat thundered in Nesta’s ear as she adjusted herself so that she could wrap an arm around to twist a lock of his hair in her hand, “After the bath, we’ll resume the tour. I want to see every room.”

“Maybe it’s time to see the _bedroom_? Somewhere a bit softer?” His eyes wandered down to a faint red line on her torso from where the bookshelf had dug in.

“We’ll end the tour there for the night. You still owe me some swimming later.”

“You want to take a bath now and then go _swimming_?” Cassian raised an eyebrow as he nudged the bathroom door open and carried Nesta to a large tub sunk into the floor. He walked down into it and deposited his bride on a marble bench beside the faucet. She jumped at the cold stone.

“I want to take a bath with you, play with you in this tub after, then I want you in the kitchen, on the stairs, on the second floor balcony, and the landing pad on the roof- but don’t worry, I won’t make you come _every_ time. Once we’re done with all of that, I want you to fly me over that lake and drop me into the water from a height no greater than ten feet.”

Cassian’s eyes went wide, “That sounds like fun.”

“I thought you’d say that. So you might want to hurry getting that pouch from-“she saw the dangerous flash in his eyes and smiled innocently, “ _Thesan_.”

“ _Demon-witch_.” He backed out of the room and Nesta laughed as she heard him again from down the hall, “ _Demonic, evil witch._ ”

After his errand was done, Cassian sat beside Nesta in the slowly filling tub and pulled items from the bag. Each bundle of lingerie was unwrapped and judged by Cassian- all would be broken in over their time at the cabin. Lord Devlin’s gift was something for Cassian- a net of leather ties that a male wore around his torso, giving his female _plenty_ to grab onto and drag him where she wanted him. Nesta grinned broadly at that.

Elain and Lucien’s gift turned out to be lingerie and a crisscross of blue lace that ended in four fur-lined cuffs. Nesta had seen it on display at the very back corner of the shop in Velaris- where they kept the naughtiest of intimates. The cuffs were for a female or male’s wrists and ankles, binding them close together and leaving the fae wide open for their partner to play with as they wished. Her cheeks burned at the thought that her younger sister even _knew_ the purpose of such a thing, let alone the horrifying idea that she might have experience with it. Just how kinky _were_ Elain and Lucien?

“Oh, I want to use this first.” Cassian held up a wrist and strapped the cuff on. It fit easily enough that he knew his legs would be no problem.

“You do?”

He just smiled at her, “I’m going to make you do _all_ the work the next time.”

“Fine,” she shrugged, “but your tongue is going to be tired after this tour.”

Cassian snickered and pulled off the cuff. He set it to the side of the tub and pulled out the bundle of herbs from the priestess and the vials from Tarquin- two different kinds of restoratives to help the couple keep their strength up.

The supplies that Thesan gave them with the bag had clearly been chosen with a great degree of forethought- they were all either cinnamon or sandalwood scented to match the couple. Bath salts, soaps, shampoos, lotions, and something Cassian whistled at and called ‘ _special lotion_ ’ were all lined neatly up along the side of the tub along with their other gifts.

By the time they were finished unpacking the bag, the dull ache had gone from Nesta’s core. Cassian nuzzled her neck, breathing in her scent. She turned to face him and braced her hands on the back of the tub. Cassian scooted forward on the stone seat so that she could wrap her legs around his hips and sit on his lap.

It was still a while before either’s bodies truly woke, but she wrapped her arms around his head, and he held her tight. Their heads rested on one another’s shoulders, and Cassian lightly brushed his nails down Nesta’s black tattoo.

No rising passions, no burning need from his cock or her knot, just the simple act of holding one another tight brought them all the joy and comfort they could ever want.

“I love you, husband.” Nesta rubbed her face against his skin.

“I love you too, wife.” His voice was soft.

“It’s been- what? A little over a year since Feyre came back? If she ever returned, I expected her to come in another golden carriage, not High Fae and with some winged _jackass_ in tow.” Nesta flicked Cassian as she spoke.

“His name is ‘Rhysand’, and you shouldn’t talk about your High Lord and brother that way.” He snickered despite the tension that raked through him at the male’s name.

Nesta smiled, “Well then, it’s a good thing all I ever saw was the tall, muscular, and _overwhelmingly_ handsome male beside him.”

“Thank-“

“-and beside _Azriel_ , I noticed you. Eventually.”

“ _Ohh_ , you witch. I’m going to get my revenge later. When you want to know why I won’t let you come- that is why. Those words.” He splashed the back of her head and was grateful she couldn’t see the laughter he was _barely_ containing.

“I hated you _so much_ because I couldn’t figure out why I loved you. I was horrible to everyone, I was horrible to you, but after that first meal, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to be better for you. I wanted to be someone you could be proud of… and that made me angrier than I have ever been in my life.”

She kissed his cheek, “Thank you. Thank you for never giving up on me. Thank you for walking into that fire and seeing me behind it. Thank you for caring for my sister and pulling my head out of my own ass. Thank you for making me happier, making me feel loved and protected- but also for making me feel like _I’m_ the one the world needs to be protected from. Your ‘demon-witch’.”

“I-“ Cassian cleared his throat, “I built this cabin for a family, but I never thought I’d have one of my own. That first day I saw you, part of me knew what you would be. My mate, my heart, my soul. You were wounded, frightened, and you lashed out. I knew what that felt like, and I knew that when you’re stuck in the grasp of that kind of soul-deep wrath, it’s hard to pull yourself out. I asked Rhysand to send me to you, even when I complained and pretended it was some chore- I wanted nothing more than to see you again.”

He tightened his arms around her, holding Neta close, “I have loved Rhys and Azriel like brothers for a long time- and I learned to love Amren and even Mor as sisters eventually. Still, when you’re told for so long that you aren’t worthy of a family, no matter how many years pass you still can’t escape those words. I found you in the fire- but you also found me. You found that small, angry child and showed him- showed _me_ \- that I was more. I deserved _more_. The others had been saying it for years, but you- a human-turned-fae who didn’t even realize she _liked_ me- if you could make me feel worthy of a family, maybe it wasn’t so out of reach after all.”

Cassian hesitated, “What I said on the battlefield, when Hybern broke my wings and you shielded me with your body-“ Nesta’s hands tightened in his hair as she tensed. Even the memory of her mate being threatened made her feel sick, “- I still mean it. I will always mean it. No matter how many lives we live, I will always find you. No matter how long our love, it will never be enough. No matter what we might put one another through to claim that love- it will always be worth it. _You_ , Nesta Archeron, are worth waiting for, and _you_ are worth fighting for.”

He felt her tears drip onto his back as she squeezed him harder, “I love you.” Her voice was a rough whisper.

“I love you too.” He pushed her back until he could see her face and cup it in his hands. Cassian kissed her eyes gently and wiped the tears away, “I will always love you, and I will always fight for you.”

When he smiled, she reached up to wipe away _his_ tears, “Thank you for being my husband, and thank you for being my mate.”

She couldn’t trust herself to speak any more, so she pressed her lips to his and threw everything at their mating bond- every last bit of love, faith, and pride she had in him. She held his face in her hands as they kissed and Cassian returned her feelings along that bond with his own.

They would never feel more love for one another than they did in that moment-

-and they would never feel any less.

 

* * *

 

Five days later, the mating frenzy finally released them.

Five days of short, gasping breaks followed by renewed lust. Cassian took Nesta on a ‘tour’ of every square inch of that house, most of the communal spaces, and _several_ tours of the lake.

At one point they were forced to eat with a closed door between them, just to get sustenance into their bodies. Even then, they could only stand it with their fingers intertwined beneath the wood (until Nesta flattened herself on the floor and sucked at his hand). Every piece of lingerie was broken in and earned high praise- _both_ tried Elain and Lucien’s gift. It saw the most use of anything they’d received.

Cassian held Nesta against him every night when they finally tumbled into an exhausted sleep, his wing draped across her. Every morning one woke the other with mouth or hand gently stroking that ember back into a flame.

When the frenzy passed, when Nesta and Cassian could go _three hours_ without sex, when they could simply hold one another and look up at the sky without it turning into a frantic scramble to taste their mate and feel their release- then they decided it was time to return to Velaris and see their family. Desire had forced them from their wedding in a rush, but now they wanted to truly celebrate with the ones they loved.

Cassian and Nesta donned their wedding clothes once more- having accidentally left the ceremony without so much as a spare set. Cassian automatically rested his hand on the back of her head while he flew. It was a bit awkward to fly that way, but he knew it would make his mate feel less afraid.

The journey back to Velaris took three hours, and even then they angled for the House of Wind so a sweaty Cassian could catch his breath and _both_ would have a chance to bathe and change clothes. He waited on her balcony while she pulled a fresh dress and underclothes from the wardrobe, then scooped her up into his arms and circled the House until he found his own rooms.

“I’ll demand private time with you. At least one week a month, when they can spare you.” Nesta said. Cassian filled the tub as she stripped, “I want to help you finish the cabins as soon as possible.”

He smiled brightly and came over to help her out of the fur-lined lingerie Viviane had given them at the wedding- the cleanest underclothes Nesta had been able to find (not that they hadn’t seen plenty of use at the cabin). “I would love that.” He kissed her and led his mate backwards into the tub.

They made love one more time in the swirling steam of the bath and then took their own sweet time drying off. Nesta combed her hair and braided it back, then sat on Cassian’s lap and let him play with her breasts while she combed _his_ hair (it was the only way he’d submit to basic grooming).

An hour after they arrived at the House of Wind, Cassian opened the bathroom door.

“What the-“ a narrower version of carpet that lined the aisle at wedding had appeared on the other side of the door. It stretched across his chambers and out into the hall. Cassian looked back at his wife as she finished pulling on cream-colored slippers, “Something tells me we were spotted.”

“Let’s see what the idiots have planned.” Nesta laughed and hooked her arm through Cassian’s.

They followed the carpet through the House of Wind, up the stairs, and out into the garden. A table piled high with mating gifts sat against the side of the House- everything brought by their guests in addition to the naughty trinkets they’d passed on at the feast.

Amren was lurking by the side of the door. Neither even knew she was there until they heard a long sniff, “Mated.”

Rhysand and Azriel appeared out of nowhere and tackled Cassian away from Nesta’s side. The Illyrians fell into a heap- laughing and punching in equal measures as they wrestled. Feyre, Elain, and Mor rushed over to join Nesta and Amren.

“Well? How was it?”

“Your frenzy lasted _five days_?! How are you even standing?”

“Did he like the pearls?”

Nesta laughed brightly at the female’s questions, vowed never to answer them, and looked over at the tangle of Illyrians. Varian and Lucien stood well away from the flurry of obsidian talons as the males tried to swipe at one another using their wings, but they shouted encouragements to either Azriel or Rhysand. Nesta managed to catch Cassian’s eye just before Azriel wrenched his wing and Rhysand locked him in a choke hold.

There was nothing but joy on his face. Pure, unreserved joy. She felt it in the mating bond as bright and blinding as the sun, and she read it in his face even as he shouted in indignation and punched Azriel.

The lake was incredible, but this- being surrounded by their family- this was heaven itself.

Never in their lives had Cassian or Nesta known as much happiness as they felt together. No matter how many centuries passed or how big their family grew, little would compare to their time at the lake, or even these first moments back with the ones they chose to love.

Heaven.

Pure heaven.

 

* * *

* * *

**All comments loved and cherished!**

 


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